“If you're having trouble with the concept of ghosts, then you're in for a very long evening.” Kevin Purdy
Jennie Irish was a basket case, and not without cause. Earlier, her dog, Molly, had gone missing from her pen in the backyard ten minutes after Jennie had put her out to do her business. It wasn't anything she hadn't done hundreds of times before without a problem so she had had no reason to fear doing it again. But when she'd gone out to bring her in, her little tri-color spaniel was missing with the gate standing wide open. Something that would have been impossible for Molly to accomplish on her own.
Frantically, Jennie had searched the neighborhood, calling and crying, and imploring neighbors to help her look. People who knew Jennie, who understood the bond she held with Molly, joined in the hunt, leaving no patch of ground uncovered, but it was of no use. The little dog was gone. Because Molly wasn't considered a valuable piece of property, because she was considered a mere pet, the police, though sympathetic, could not be bothered with taking a report. Animal control, area vets, and animal rescue organizations were notified and within the space of a few hours the first flyers were going up all over the neighborhood and beyond. Everything was being done to bring Molly home, because everyone who knew Jennie knew Molly was more than a pet. She was Jennie's main reason for living.
Jennie was a survivor. She'd grown up the bastard in a highly dysfunctional family. The damage to her psyche had been profound yet she had never given in. During her first year at college she had survived being stalked and nearly raped, her attacker stopping suddenly and, without warning, turning tail and escaping unheeded into the night. There had been no logical reason for it. Later she had been found unconscious yet barely injured in the aftermath of a horrific car accident. The reason, the authorities decided, had been just so much dumb luck. There had been countless other occasions when she had somehow come out the better for something that would have left an indelible mark on anyone else. Jennie, it was whispered, was charmed.
But Jennie didn't feel charmed. Without the benefit of a strong family and with no close friends, she had spent her life feeling isolated and alone. There were those who cared for her, with whom she could be friendly and who supported and cared for her as friends would do. But always from a distance because she simply didn't know how to open herself up fully to anyone and she didn't know how to begin doing so. Yet she was known for her kind and generous spirit, and her gentle ways. She was also known for her passion toward those things she held dear and her willingness to defend those she cared for. She was a giver of herself who wasn't comfortable with receiving the same from others.
Several years into her therapeutic career, during a particularly agonizing period of dealing with the ghosts of her past, a puppy had appeared on her doorstep. No one knew where the pup had come from. No one had seen it on the street and no one had been near the house to have left it. Jennie had immediately fallen for the little animal and though she had done all she could responsibly do in finding its rightful home, she was joyously relieved when no one came forward to claim it. She'd named the puppy Molly and her therapist was relieved. Molly was exactly what her patient needed, for Jennie suddenly had unconditional love and a purpose in life that went beyond her devotion to others.
But still, Molly wasn't entirely enough to alleviate Jennie's lifelong loneliness. In quiet times, and especially at night, she felt her aloneness to the very depths of her heart. As a youngster she had craved love from her family. As a woman she longed for someone with whom to share herself and her life. In therapy she learned how not to depend upon anyone else for her identity and self worth, but it did nothing to fill the emptiness where someone else should have been. In this, Jennie was no different from anyone else. She needed the special love of a partner.
Days went by without word of Molly's fate and Jennie gradually lost hope of ever seeing her again. Life for everyone else once again took up its normal rhythm while she mourned quietly behind her closed doors. She knew she would eventually adopt another puppy but it would be a while. She needed to come to terms with her loss and heal some first. So that Sunday she slowly packed away Molly's toys and bowls and was on her way to collapse and store the portable pen when the doorbell rang.
Opening the door she was puzzled to find no one there. Stepping out onto the porch she looked around but there was no sign of anyone ever having been there.
“That's odd,” she murmured to herself before mentally shrugging and returning inside.
After closing and locking the door behind her she began making her way back toward the living room and the sliding glass doors that opened to the back yard. An errant breeze from the cooling system blew some paper from the end table between the wing back chairs and she paused to pick them up. As she stood up she glanced toward the sliding glass doors and stopped, stunned as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock. For there, inside her pen, sat Molly, as if she had never gone.
Sobbing, Jennie stumbled across the room and slid the doors open. Molly reared up on the pen, her little stump tail wagging madly as she barked excitedly in welcome. Throwing open the gate, Jennie gathered her up and wept as she held the soft body against her face. The little dog continued to wiggle and bathed her tear streaked cheeks with warm puppy kisses as Jennie carried her into the house.
Nearby, hidden from Jennie's eyes, someone stood, a silent and satisfied witness to the happy homecoming. It had taken him a while to find Molly and to bring her home, but only after first meting out a measure of justice from the one who had taken her. Jennie was his heart, Molly had been his gift, and, as he had always done, he saw to it that Jennie suffered as little as he could possibly protect her from. He regretted that this time had taken him longer than he liked but looking back he affirmed to himself that the end had justified his means. The man who had hurt Jennie would not be hurting anyone else anytime soon. Now he watched as the sliding door shut behind them and wished once again that he could really be there to share her joy. Be there physically. Be there in flesh and blood.
Trevor Knight was no longer of Jennie's world. His home lay on an ethereal plain that ran parallel to hers. Once, long ago, they had shared an existence in light and air and substance. Then a drunk driver had robbed them of each other, taking his life before the paths of their lives had fully met. It was only afterward, as his awareness of his new existence had grown, that he had understood what the driver had robbed them of, when the seed of the love they would have shared had sprouted and taken root as he had come to know her in a different way. Now Jennie went on alone, never knowing that the one she yearned for was no longer of her earth, never knowing that the young man she'd barely known in school, who had died so tragically that awful morning, had been the one meant to share her life. Never knowing that he was always but a breath away.
Somewhere in the far distance he remained aware of The Light, always shining, ever patient, as he went about his business. He easily resisted its call yet knew one day he would have to answer its summons. When whatever it was he still needed to do was done.
With a mere thought he was inside her house, watching the ongoing reunion. Jennie was sitting on the sofa, laughing through her tears, still not able to put Molly down. It was a comfortable room filled with warmth and homey touches. Trevor had spent much time here in this house, unwilling to leave her unless necessity warranted it, always returning as quickly as he could. Had he lived he would have spent many a lazy afternoon stretched out on that couch watching ball games, or snuggling with her, holding her close to his side in the evenings after work. There may or may not have been a Molly, but there would have been kids. Their kids, boys and girls, all cherished for the blessings they were. He gave a ghostly sigh. So much more loss than the mere loss of his life.
Jennie finally allowed Molly to hop down from the couch and rose to walk into the dining area where she began unpacking Molly's toys and bowls from the box atop the table. After throwing the toys playfully and haphazardly onto the carpet she took the bowls into the kitchen where she filled one with water and the other with kibble and set them down in their usual spot in the corner. While Molly took her fill, Jennie made calls to share the happy news with those who had helped in the search, repeatedly assuring the person on the other end that she really had no idea how Molly had been inside the pen with the gate securely latched after so many days gone. It was presumed by all that whoever had taken her had returned her, perhaps feeling guilty for what they had done. Again Trevor felt that spurt of satisfaction as he remembered the look on the thief's face. No, guilt had not been one of the emotions he had seen reflected in the beady, blood-shot eyes. More like disbelief, incomprehension, and sheer unadulterated terror. He had not taken the man's life. Trevor wasn't evil. But he was pretty sure the addict was now firmly ensconced in rehab somewhere, certain what he had experienced had been the result of one too many hits of whatever drug happened to be in his system at the time.
The rest of the day passed and Jennie happily resumed her normal Sunday activities, stopping frequently to pick Molly up for a hug and talking to her as if she were a human child. As evening fell, she showered, put on her favorite well worn nightshirt, then read in bed for a while before turning out the light, laying down and almost instantly falling into a deep, contented sleep. Molly lay curled against the pillow beside her, snoring softly and occasionally twitching in response to whatever dogs dreamed of when they slept. Night settled over the house and as the hours passed, Trevor, ever vigilant, remained close by.
~
One week later, Jennie was standing at the stove in her kitchen, spatula in one hand, the other covering a yawn, as she waited for her omelet to set. Her favorite old robe was wrapped around her body and bed socks slouched around her ankles. Her only concession to being out of bed was that her hair had been brushed. Sundays were her regular days off, though as a self employed genealogist any day could well have been a day off. She had woke up to a gentle rain falling outside and lazily rolling thunder somewhere in the distance. Forsaking the pen, she had donned a pair of boots and collected an umbrella then taken Molly outside on her leash to take care of business, something requiring patience as the little dog definitely did not like getting her paws wet. But eventually the deeds were done and they returned inside where Jennie freshened the dog's water and poured kibble into her bowls, then set to making her own breakfast.
Her mind wondered to the night before, and the night before that. She'd been having dreams. Dreams that were somehow not dreams that she wasn't alone. But they didn't frighten her. Somehow she felt comforted by them. She shook her head as she spread cheese over half of the egg, waited a moment, then expertly wielded the spatula to flip the opposing side to cover the cheese. After plating the omelet alongside the usual three strips of turkey bacon, she moved to the dining room and took her seat at the table.
Rain continued to fall beyond the sliding glass door, conspiring with a gray fog that hid the view of the neighbor's house beyond her back yard. Thunder continued to roll in the distance as she began to eat. It looked like wet weather had set in for the day.
It was as she was taking her third bite that she became aware of a presence. The back of her neck prickled and every muscle tensed. Carefully she looked around her but saw nothing. What's more, Molly didn't seem to notice anything untoward. Still, Jennie was overwhelmingly certain something was here somewhere.
Setting down her fork she rose from the chair and moved carefully into the living room. Richard Marx was singing “Right Here Waiting” on the stereo. The faint dampness in the air intensified the smell of the potpourri in the cut glass bowl on the coffee table. The ticking of the small clock she kept on the table between the chairs seemed to echo loudly. Every sense strained to identify what it was her instincts were telling her was there, watching her.
It was as she turned back toward the sliding glass door that there was a flash of lightening and she caught a glimpse of a man's figure in the glass, then it was gone. Her heart leaped into her throat then started to pound. There was a second flash and she saw him again. There and then gone. She stumbled backward, her hands covering her mouth as the bends of her knees bumped sharply against the coffee table.
Suddenly, Molly was there, barking happily at the door, tail wagging madly as she spun in place then went down on her front legs as if inviting someone to play. Jennie had the strangest feeling that reality had somehow gone askew. It was broad daylight and yet she was certain she had seen the solid form of a man come and go in the glass with each flash of lightening.
“Jennie!” The plea was urgent in her mind and as clear as if it were in her ears. “Jennie, don't be afraid! Please!”
Molly's sparkling eyes began tracking something from the door toward where Jennie cringed against the coffee table. She felt the air drop several degrees around her.
“Oh God! Oh God!”
Slowly, from out of the air itself, she watched as light coalesced and a form began to take shape. Gradually it took the form of a man until he stood before her, real concern on his handsome face and hands half raised toward her. It was the last thing Jennie saw before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away.
Trevor caught her before she could fall. Using an alarming amount of his precious energy he laid her down on the sofa, straightening her and making her as comfortable as he could. Then he took a seat on the edge and just looked at her, watching her as he waited for her to recover from her shock. Jennie. His precious, precious Jennie. He was filled with both tenderness and sorrow.
Molly appeared beside him, sniffing at his leg, her tail still wagging before she reared up with her front paws on his knee. Absently he scratched behind a silky, pendulous ear, never taking his eyes from Jennie's face.
He had so little time. The Light was becoming harder and harder to resist but there was still something that needed doing for her before answering its summons. At the same time he was determined to do one last selfish thing for himself.
He brushed her cheek with his fingers, relishing its velvety warmth. A small, affectionate smile lifted one corner of his mouth. He knew she would have been horrified for anyone to see her so rumpled and comfortable in her ratty chenille robe but to him she had never been more beautiful.
Gradually her color began to return and she sighed as she lifted one hand to the cheek he had just touched. He knew it was his own chill that she had felt and, quite possibly, had helped bring her around. He watched as her lashes fluttered then opened, revealing sleepy blue eyes that quickly rounded into horror before she sprang up, fearfully pushing away to the far end of the sofa.
“Stop! Go away!”
He remained still, nonthreatening, until she began to calm.
“Who-who are you?” Then, as if remembering, “What are you?”
“Jennie,” he smiled tenderly, wanting so badly to feel her warmth again, “My name is Trevor. I promise I'm not here to harm you.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I'm going away,” he responded, forgetting she had had no idea he existed until moments ago, “but before I do, I needed to tell you something.”
Her fear had subsided to mere apprehension and now confusion filled her expressive eyes.
“I-I don't understand.”
“I've been watching over you for a long time now but very soon you won't need me anymore.”
“Watching over me?” She couldn't seem to stop asking questions. “What do you mean? You're like my guardian angel or something?”
He chuckled, “No, hardly that. You knew me once, long ago in high school. My name was Trevor Knight. Do you remember?”
His name rang a bell and she thought back until she remembered the young man who had died so horrifically in a fiery car crash.
“Yes, I think I do. You were driving to school when you were hit by a drunk driver.”
He nodded, “Yes.”
“But why are you still here?”
“It's hard to explain and I haven't much time. But you and I, we had unfinished business.”
“But I hardly knew you.”
His expression turned sad, filled with regret, “No, we didn't know each other well but we had been meant to know each other better with time.”
She shook her head slowly from side to side, “I'm sorry. I still don't understand.”
“I know, and it really doesn't matter now anyway.” His gaze became intent. “I know you've been alone now for a long time. You've been lonely.”
“Yes.”
“I also know that you've given up ever feeling any other way.”
She nodded, “Yes.”
His gentle smile returned, “Don't give up, my love. You won't feel that way much longer.”
Again she shook her head, “I won't ?”
“No. You'll soon meet a man, a good man. A man whose hands I know I can safely entrust you to.”
“Who?”
“I can't tell you, but it will be very soon. You will know him when you meet him.”
Somehow, she believed him and Trevor felt the hope flicker back to life inside her heart.
“Really?”
He nodded, “Yes.”
Her fear was completely gone now as she marveled at what he had told her.
“I can't believe it.”
“Believe it, sweet Jennie.”
She stared wonderingly off over his shoulder before her gaze returned to meet his.
“But where are you going?”
“To The Light. You don't need me any longer.”
“I wish I'd known you were there.”
“It was better you didn't. It would have blinded you to what lay ahead.”
“Love.” she guessed, “Happiness.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my. It's so hard to take in, what you've told me.”
“I know. And now I must go, but there is one last thing I would ask of you.”
“What is that?”
His voice softened, “Close your eyes.”
She paused a moment before doing as he asked, and he leaned forward, touching her lips with his. She felt a mere wisp of coolness while he felt her precious warmth fill him. Pulling away he smiled as she opened her eyes. He began to glow as he rose to his feet.
“Goodbye, my love.”
Looking over his shoulder he nodded then glanced back at her one last time. A sad smile lifted his lips as he slowly faded away.
Reminiscent of the movie, Ghost, with a slightly different twist. Your beautifully written story is both a lonely woman's dream and a tragedy, because the ghost of Trevor cannot come back through the body of Whoopi Goldberg like in the movie. I find Jennie, perhaps, lonelier having known that someone loved her but can't be with her.
But using the device of a ghost is certainly a way of writing a story like this. I was only worried that you are feeding Molly kibbles. I haven't checked their ingredients, but I read recently that most dog foods are made from gullets, a part of the cow that can't be used for human consumption, but dogs love. I am always suspect of highly advertised, colored and shaped food.
BOOK I of THE JADE OWL LEGACY SERIES: An out of work Chinese History Professor crosses paths with a young scamp in San Francisco and becomes part of a quest for a lost and dangerous Chinese relic.
Step into the world of 1 bestselling ‘Fantastica’ with this complete four book collection compiled into a single Kindle anthology. From the masterful mind of multiple award winning, International bestselling, fantasy author, M. R. Mathias comes this
Jennie Irish was a basket case, and not without cause. Earlier, her dog, Molly, had gone missing from her pen in the backyard ten minutes after Jennie had put her out to do her business. It wasn't anything she hadn't done hundreds of times before without a problem so she had had no reason to fear doing it again. But when she'd gone out to bring her in, her little tri-color spaniel was missing with the gate standing wide open. Something that would have been impossible for Molly to accomplish on her own.
