Chapter 3

 

“Oh, are you going into town?” Owen wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to his feet. “I’ll come with you. Let me just go grab my jacket.”

“Actually, can we come too?” Mrs. Anderson asked. “Our cars are buried under two feet of snow and we’d like to do some more Christmas shopping.” She gave Mr. Houzer a coy smile and I wanted to scowl at the cheating pair of cheaters.

“Sure,” I said, because I was a professional B&B owner. Owen rushed upstairs leaving his plate where it was, while the other two carried theirs over to the sink.

I frowned slightly, Gabriel’s words coming unbidden to my mind. And that Owen fellow. I don’t like him.

I pushed it aside. Owen’d looked scrumptious this morning. Wearing a soft purple cashmere cardigan I wanted to curl up and go to sleep in, and a pair of tight jeans that showed off his slender, long legs. He was a walking wet dream.

“It’s below zero again,” Elisa said. “So you might want to put on an extra sweater.”

I glanced down at my thin Henley and agreed. “Tell them I’ll be right down.”

I’d made an art of running up the stairs two at a time while making no noise at all, and hurried into my bedroom. Deciding to brush my teeth—for good hygiene, no other blond haired, brown eyed, kissable reasons—I walked into my bathroom and found Gabriel waiting for me, leaning against some invisible post in my mirror. Gone was the soft, introspective man I’d met the night before. Here was Gabriel the Debonair Ghost, arrived to make my life difficult. I groaned at the twinkle in his eye.

“What?” I asked.

“I can do mild telekinesis,” he said, smirking.

“You know eavesdropping isn’t polite,” I told him primly as I checked out my toothbrush.

He waved that away. “I can’t help what I overhear. Owen’s going too?”

“He is.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed a little, but his expression smoothed out fast. “Then you should put on that soft green sweater. And brush your hair.”

I looked at the mess of curls on my head. “My hair’s fine.” I’d think about the sweater.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Your hair—while admittedly charming first thing in the morning—could do with some tidying up.”

My hairbrush rattled, lifted into the air, and started nudging the back of my head. I tried to ignore it in as dignified a way as possible and squeezed toothpaste on my toothbrush.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Gabriel pretending to be casual as he studied his nails. “So your two other guests are going Christmas shopping for each other?” he asked. I dried my mouth and finally tried to snatch the hairbrush out of the air. It pirouetted out of my reach and I scowled at him. He looked no different than usual, but confidence definitely suited him. I wondered if his hair was dark or blond under all that pomade or whatever it was covered in.

“Looks like it,” I grumbled. “I wonder what their spouses would do if they knew.” The brush clattered to the floor and the rakish smile disappeared instantly from his face. Gabriel looked so crestfallen my heart twanged. “What is it?”

“They’re…married?”

“Well, they were both wearing wedding rings when they got here, so unless they’re widowed, I assume so. Yes. Why? What do you c—” I remembered his infinite attempts to get Elisa and me alone in a room. “Gabriel! Have you been meddling?” I demanded.

His strong jaw flexed and his mirror image rippled like he was a reflection under water. “I thought…” He covered his face. “Oh God.”

Alarmed, I reached out but of course my fingers met nothing but cold, hard glass. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It—it doesn’t matter.” He began to fade but I didn’t think I’d ever forget the agony on his face.

“Wait!” I called out. To my surprise he did. He looked at me warily. “I—can I ask you a question? I mean, if this isn’t a good time…”

Gabriel laughed softly but he sounded sad. “Time is all I have, Nathaniel. Ask away.”

I felt like an idiot, but I needed to know. “Is there anything I can do? Me or Elisa? To help you out of here, I mean. If that’s what you want. You’re welcome to stay, obviously. We were thinking maybe you were stuck here, and if you need help of any kind we can—” I snapped my mouth shut. Gabriel’s eyes were still on me, still sad, but his expression had softened a little. He had a nice, full mouth.

“I appreciate that,” he said, then hesitated. “There’s not much you can do.”

“Not much?” I tried. “So there’s something?”

“Yeah.” He turned his face away, offering me his profile, and I again wondered what he was looking at, what he saw, in that world of his.

“What? What can I do?”

He smiled at whatever he was seeing. “You could fall in love,” he said, and then he was gone.

I gaped at my own reflection for a solid minute before realizing I looked ridiculous doing that, and then hurried out of my bedroom. As I passed Owen’s door, I heard it rattle.

“Owen? You okay?”

“The door is stuck,” he called out. “I was just about to give you a call.”

I tried the door handle and it gave like it had just been oiled. Owen gaped at me.

“I don’t understand. I’ve been trying for a while. It’s like this place is haunted.”

I gave a watery laugh. “Maybe it is, you never know!”

With a scowl, Owen stopped me in the hallway. “Did you do that on purpose? Lock me in there? Because that’s not funny.”

“What? No, Jesus. Why would I do that?” I shrugged him off, taken aback. I wanted to talk to Elisa to see what she’d make of Gabriel, but the others were already waiting in the reception area. I had no choice but to lead them to the garage and get in my car.

“You okay?” Owen asked after a couple of silent miles. He’d grabbed the front seat, and by the looks of things, Mr. and Mrs. Unfaithful didn’t seem to mind. I glanced at their entwined hands. Yup, married. And not to each other.

“I’m okay,” I said gruffly, probably startling Owen into silence because he didn’t say anything else, and I felt bad. “Hey, it looks like they towed your car,” I told him when we passed the gardens.

“Yes, that’s why I’m going into town. I need a new rental.”

“Oh, right.” I felt awkward, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. I glanced in my rearview mirror. “Do you have any idea where you’d like to do your Christmas shopping? I’m going to Jackson. There’s a nice Main Street I can drop you off at, but it’s pretty cold.”

Mrs. Anderson lifted her head. She looked flushed and happy and it only soured my mood further. Why did I care so much? It was none of my business. “Actually, I found a little mall on the internet, right off the—”

“Yeah, I know where it is,” I interrupted, and conversation in the car died out again.

Shit. I was being a complete jerk. I wanted to make amends a little and tell them some quirky fact about our town but it was literally the most uneventful place on earth. Besides, when I looked in my mirror again, they were making out in my backseat like teenagers.

Seriously?

Owen made a face of disgust that almost had me sputter out a laugh. For the rest of the ride, I kept my eyes on the road and turned up the music to drown out any potential smacking noises.

“Are you sure they didn’t know each other?” Owen asked when I’d dropped the tonsil lickers off. “They were…intense.”

“Two completely separate bookings,” I told him. “Made in different months. They arrived on different days.” I thought for a second. “They’re leaving on the same day, but I’m sure that’s coincidence. If they did know each other they went out of their way to pretend they didn’t during their first breakfast together, and what would be the point of that?” Unless they were already cheating and trying to hide it. Bastards.

“But you’re sure they’re married?”

“They’re both wearing rings.”

Owen mulled that over. “They could be widowed. Or divorced and not wanting to take their rings off.”

“Possible,” I muttered. Unlikely, I thought. But still, he had a point, and I needed to keep my opinions to myself so I wouldn’t offend them and cause them to leave a terrible review somewhere.

“Did you get cheated on?” Owen asked me gently when I pulled into a parking spot.

I shrugged. “Nah,” I said, unwilling to volunteer that particular piece of information.

“Oh good. You just seem so sensitive to it, that’s all.”

“It’s awful, I think. To cheat on someone. It seems like one of the worst things you can do to the person you’re supposed to love.”

“Yeah.” Owen’s gaze was far away for a second. “Maybe.”

 

 

Owen and I parted ways so he could rent his car and I could do my grocery shopping. As suspected, Elisa had sent me a whole list of things I needed beside eggs, and I grabbed a cart to start my round. It didn’t take long since I knew the store like the back of my hand, and while I loaded things in the truck, my phone dinged again.

“Elisa, if that’s you needing more stuff,” I grumbled, “you’re out of luck.” But it was an unknown number.

Car all sorted, will drive myself home. How about some coffee first, just me and you? —O.

I chewed my lip. Tempting as it was to caffeinate myself while basking in Owen’s beauty, something else was eating away at me.

Need to run some more errands, sorry, I texted back, and pocketed my phone. I had another hour before I needed to pick up my canoodling couple, so I got in the car and drove to our little library.

The Carnegie library in Jackson was a beautiful place built in the early 1900s and as a young teen trying to escape my grandmother’s house, I’d spent a lot of time there. Not so much recently, though, and it took me a while before I found the computers and got myself logged in.

At first I did a quick Google search, but just like Elisa’s, it came up empty. I went into the library’s own search engine and typed in Gabriel Wickfield. It came up with nothing again. I sat back and sighed, about to give up, when I saw a different search option, offering historical images.

On a whim, I tried it. Two photographs showed up. One was black and white of a bunch of children, clearly in a classroom. Beside the photograph was a list of information, including the name of the school—a building that had been torn down a long time ago—the year ‘1897’, and a bunch of children’s names. I scanned them all. Front row, second row, then there, on the third row. Gabriel Wickfield.

I squinted at all the kids, but the photograph was so grainy I couldn’t identify any of them as my friendly and handsome ghost.

I clicked back to the list and selected the second photograph. And there he was. Still black and white, still grainy, but undeniably Gabriel. Photograph taken in 1915, it said, and I had another one of those holy shit moments that rarely happened anymore because of Gabriel. I’d gotten so used to having him around, but Jesus.

1915.

He wore a different suit, but had that same rakish smile going on, the twinkle in his eye noticeable even in the sepia photograph. I wondered what he’d done to deserve being kept in the archives, and noticed there was an article attached to the photograph with a drop-down link. I clicked on it.

Naval officer dies on horseback following deviant scandal.

I gasped and blinked at the screen. Part of me thought this was private and I should really close this window, but I was too curious not to read it.

Detroit, Mi, Dec. 26. — Following the suicide of Sheriff Heathcliff F. Heartland, Naval Officer H. Gabriel Wickfield took a fatal fall yesterday afternoon at his family’s estate in Jackson, Michigan. Facing charges of imprisonment for degenerate behavior, Heartland took his own life two weeks ago. Prior to his death, the fellow-accused Wickfield remained elusive after Heartland’s suicide, but sources confirmed his state of mind had been such suicide can’t be ruled—

I closed the article with a snap of the mouse. Oh God. I wanted to know more, but I wouldn’t get the information like this, behind Gabriel’s back.

I didn’t leave the desk for several long minutes, because my knees felt weak. He’d had an affair, and it had obviously gone so very wrong. For both parties. I couldn’t even imagine.

Is that why he got stuck? Was it some unrequited love thing? Was it because he killed himself? But why the B&B of all places?

I opened Google again and wasted forty-five minutes of my life researching exorcisms.

By the time I remembered I had to pick up the dynamic duo I was already ten minutes late, so I shut down my search and left the library in a cloud of sadness. My heart ached for Gabriel and I regretted every single time I’d called him Gabe just to goad him.

I found Mrs. Anderson and Mr, Houzer holding hands in the crowded and steamed-up coffee shop where I told them we’d meet. I tried not to look too sour when I interrupted their sweet mumblings.

“Ready to go?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Anderson startled and blushed. Was that a hickey on her neck? Jeee-zus. “Yes, of course. Thank you for taking us, Mr. O’Donnelly. And for picking us up. That was very kind of you.”

I almost told her Mr. O’Donnelly was my long deceased and slap-happy grandpa but that would mean we’d be on first name basis, and just, no.

“Let’s get going,” I said. “It looks like more snow.”

They hurried to their feet and followed me to the parking lot. No one said anything when we were faced with the bluest sky we’d seen in days.

The drive home was even more awkward because despite the empty seat beside me, they decided to sit in the back. I kept my eyes resolutely on the road and thanked my lucky stars for the short drive.

As always Lake House seemed to welcome me with open arms. From the wrought-iron gate to the white smoke coming from the chimney, I could breathe easier as soon as I saw it. The Christmas lights twinkled sweetly in the gentle breeze and I knew I was home.

I remembered my resolve to be nicer to my guests. “Need help with anything?” I asked Mrs. Anderson. She shook her head quickly, flashed me a fake smile, and scurried inside.

Maybe I really had been too rude. I’d make it up to them somehow. First, I needed to find Gabriel. I didn’t spare much thought to the brand new Toyota sitting in my driveway.

“Is he around?” I asked Elisa as I carried in the groceries and disappeared into the pantry.

“Who? Owen? He’s in the lounge, I think.”

“No. Gabriel.” I peered into the mirror, but there was no one there.

“Why?” Elisa asked, following me and closing the door behind her. “Did you find out something interesting?”

I shook my head, not wanting to talk behind his back. Especially since he could be listening and I wouldn’t have a clue. “Do any of the guest rooms still need cleaning?”

“I did them all, but the lounge needs a vacuum.”

“I’ll do that as soon as Owen’s out of there.” She stared at me for a long moment and I stared back, waiting. “What?”

“You’re not going to sit with Owen?”

I thought about that for a second. I could imagine him by the hearth, long legs stretched out in front of him. Maybe he’d lost the sweater in the heat of the fire…

Gabriel’s story tugged at me.

“Maybe later,” I told her and left her gaping after me as I hurried toward my room.

 

 

I had a feeling he’d be waiting to talk to me in one of my mirrors but I wasn’t prepared to find him sitting by the French doors, staring out over the lake. He gently rocked back and forth, but his posture wasn’t relaxed. His elbows rested on his thighs, his fingertips pressed into his lips and his forehead creased into deep lines.

“Hey,” I said when I’d recovered from the mini heart attack.

“Nathaniel,” Gabriel said, cutting me a quick glance before going back to staring out of the window. He did his best to relax a little, sitting back, but I wasn’t fooled.

I eased closer, wary of the strange tension in the room. The sunlight made his hair gleam, and I realized—”You’re more solid!”

Gabriel slowly turned to look at me with those bright blue eyes and I felt my face go red. Was that a terrible ghostly faux pas? Did one not comment on one’s spectral form’s state of solidity? Was that like pointing out someone had gained a few pounds? “Um.”

“It happens around this time of year.” He barely raised his voice above a whisper but it felt like his voice filled the room. “If I let it.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t know what to say now that he was here with me. So you died after your illicit lover killed himself, want to talk about it?

Yeah, no.

“Tell me about your grandparents, Nathaniel.” Gabriel straightened a little and indicated the other rocking chair.

“I…what do you want to know?” I hedged, walking slowly closer so I could perch on the edge of the seat. It nearly tipped forward and I flailed a little to keep my balance. Smooth. I glanced at Gabriel from underneath my bangs. He watched me, face unreadable.

“Your uncle used to tell me things. He never went into an awful lot of detail, but sometimes, he’d talk. So I know a little of what you went through growing up, and I’ve always wanted to know more.” He frowned a little, rubbed his fingertips across his forehead, looking strangely hesitant. “I know you found out,” he went on when I said nothing. “You want me to share something I feel extremely uncomfortable sharing, so I’d like to understand a little more about you first.”

I leaned forward and reached out to touch his knee, but he flinched and my hand froze in midair. “Sorry,” I mumbled, snatching my hand away. I realized it’d probably pass through him. “You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s your business.”

He nodded slowly and to my surprise, his mouth lifted in a slow smile. “I don’t mind telling you,” he said. “But quid pro quo, my friend. I’ve been observing you for a long time and you…intrigue me. Tell me about the people who raised you.”

I blinked, shivering a little. “Okay. Uh, well, I’m sure there’s a lot you know already, just from, um, hanging around.” I took a deep breath. “My dad was never in the picture. My mom died of breast cancer when I was two, so I never knew her either, really.” I glanced at him, expecting pity or sympathy or something. There was nothing but the ice in his eyes and a flexing muscle in his jaw. I pushed on. “My grandparents took me in, although they were already very old. My grandpa died when I was thirteen and then it was just grandma and me.”

Gabriel’s eyes zoned in on mine and he pinned me with his stare. “This explains a lot,” he murmured. I opened my mouth to protest when he asked, “What was your grandfather like?”

I shrugged. “Old. I mean, to a kid my age he seemed—” Ancient. I didn’t say it. It still felt disrespectful, even now. Years after I realized he’d nearly broken me as a child. That part of the reason why I was alone was because I found it so hard to trust anyone with my heart, my body. My soul.

“What else? Was he kind? Did he love you? Did you like living with them?”

I remembered the amount of times I’d escaped to the library after school, at first to avoid grandpa and his ruler, and then to get away from the black sinkhole that was grandma’s depression after he died. “I didn’t like it, no.” Something I hadn’t realized until I was older and understood not everyone had grown up like that. I tried to shrug it off like I’d done for years. “It was what it was.”

Maybe he sensed I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, because he settled deeper into his chair and I dared to look at him full on for the first time. His gaze was far away and hazy, as if his irises absorbed the sharp winter sunlight bouncing off the snow.

“My affair with Heath was very brief,” he said. “I was on leave from the Navy. I planned on spending a few weeks in Detroit with some old friends, and met him on my first night there. We just collided.” Gabriel closed his eyes. It was so brief it was there and gone in a second but the look on his face…it left my heart racing. “He didn’t want to feel attracted. He tried to fight it every time we met, but it was inevitable.” The small smile deepened and his cheeks dimpled as he opened his eyes. He was so far away it made my stomach ache. “For the first few days it was…bliss.” He cut me a quick glance as if to gauge my reaction, but I kept my face blank. “After a few weeks, I realized... Times were different back then, we didn’t have much choice. We couldn’t have everything we wanted. I was—I was falling in love and I had to protect myself, you see, as well as him. Or so I thought. I went there to tell him we had to end it.” Gabriel’s face shuttered closed. “I’m not proud of it. I’d pursued him like he was prey. Then like a coward, I told him we couldn’t do this anymore.” I couldn’t tell if he was going pale, or more see-through again, but he looked untouchable in his grief. As approachable as a caged panther. “His sister and mother walked in on us when we exchanged a last, passionate kiss. I think if it had only been the sister…but the mother went into hysterics.”

Gabriel’s palms were clasped together in his lap, and I could see the sharp indents his fingertips made between the bones of his hand. Shallow half-moon shapes of pain that ran as deep as his soul. I wanted to reach out to him again, to ease him somehow, but I couldn’t touch him. God. How long had it been since someone had touched him? Well, I knew exactly how long, didn’t I?

“What happened?” I asked when he didn’t go on.

“Accusations were made. It turned ugly. Everything changed, obviously. I wanted to run away together since everyone knew anyway. Our lives were ruined. We planned to meet at my family’s estate and go from there, but he never came.”

“Oh Gabriel,” I whispered. I wanted to reach for him so badly I had to ball my hands into fists. “I’m so sorry.”

“So that’s the story.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“I waited for him.”

“Did you—” I faltered. “The fall, was that an accident?”

His head snapped up and I startled at the raw emotion his face betrayed. The air in the room popped, and he was gone. I sprang to my feet.

“I’m sorry,” I said desperately. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He didn’t come back. I stood there for a long time, watching his chair rock back and forth. When it came to a halt I frowned at it. So how did that work? How could he sit on something while I couldn’t touch him? Or maybe I could and it was unwelcome. Well. I wouldn’t try again, no matter how much I found myself wanting to.