Ghost of Christmas Past

Three

Sleep born of exhaustion claimed her well into the night. Her eyes drifted closed and a curtain of velvety red rose petals fanned across her vision. The rose petals fell in a thick shower, and the shadowy figure of a man appeared behind the veil.

“Davy?” she called, plunging into the roses, desperate to gaze into the brilliant blue of his beautiful eyes one last time. The storm of rose petals swirled around her and the shadowed man.

“No, Lilly,” a deep voice answered. “It’s Daniel.”

“Daniel?” she replied, squinting through the swirling rose petals. “Why are you here? Where is Davy?”

“Your husband is waiting for you,” Daniel replied. Slowly his shadowy figure glided through the sea of petals to reveal a young man garbed in a gray uniform.

Lilly gasped. He looked exactly as she remembered. “Daniel… it is you.”

“Yes, Lilly, I am always with you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she murmured, staring into his blue-green eyes.

“Your husband is waiting for you, Lilly. Go to him.”

She shook her head sadly. “What do you mean, Daniel? My husband died today. He’s gone.”

Daniel shook his head. “No, Lilly, he yet lives. You must find the water near Big Springs.”

“Big Springs?”

“Yes, Lilly. Find the water near Big Springs. Your husband is there.” Daniel began to fade away. He did not draw back, but his figure thinned… became transparent…

“Wait!” she called, reaching for him. “Don’t leave.”

“Go, Lilly.”

“Daniel, please don’t leave!”

“Forgive me, Lilly, I have no choice. Now go. You must leave with all haste. Time is of the essence.”

Lilly startled awake, deeply unsettled by her bizarre dream, and stared into the darkness. How completely horrible to dream about both the men she’d lost. Next to Davy, losing Daniel had been one of the darkest days of her life. She sat abruptly, unwilling to close her eyes and invite more disconcerting dreams. She fumbled to light the lamp on the bedside table, and then scooted to the edge of the bed. She rested there for a long moment, shoulders slumped as she mustered the energy to get up, and begin another horrible day.

Except that today wasn’t just any other day. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Lilly gulped back the lump forming in her throat and rubbed her gritty, swollen eyes. Anger and bitterness welled up inside her. It didn’t feel like Christmas. Christmas should be a time of merriment and happiness not death. She’d had wonderful plans for the holiday, but now…

She stood and lifted the lamp. Still dressed in the rumpled clothes from the day before, she trudged from the bedroom. She didn’t bother to change or comb her hair. At the moment she didn’t care about much of anything. She entered the main room and set the lamp on the table. A dried rose sat on the smooth wooden surface. Lilly startled as shivers rushed over her skin.

How did that get there?

Disconcerted, she lifted the rose and twirled it between her fingers. This was definitely the rose Davy had given her at their wedding reception. Confused, she glanced toward the bookshelf. The journal she used to press the roses lay open on the floor.

“How strange,” she murmured. Had she been so lost in grief last night that she’d dropped the book? Or maybe she’d settled it too precariously on the shelf and it had fallen. That was certainly possible, but how had the rose gotten onto the table halfway across the room? She shifted an assessing gaze around the house. Everything was in perfect order. Goosebumps prickled across her skin. Daniel’s presence in her dream teased the back of her mind.

Had his spirit really come to her last night? Had he truly been speaking to her? Or was it simply a bit of madness brought about by grief and denial.

Lilly shook her head. Impossible.

“I must have been sleep walking,” she reasoned aloud, trying to ignore the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Squaring her shoulders she strode back to the bookshelf and lifted the journal from the floor. Gently she replaced the dried rose and securely replaced the book on the shelf. Turning away she moved to the hearth to get a fire going and banish the chill from the air.

Clunk.

Lilly stopped short, heart leaping into her throat. It sounded as though a book had fallen from the shelf.

Thump.

Pulse thrumming, she turned slowly back to the bookshelf. Not one but two books lay on the floor. Nerves piqued she stepped carefully back to the books. One was the journal with her pressed roses, the other wasn’t actually a book, but the wrapped sheaf of Daniel’s letters from the war. She gulped and bent to lift the letters.

Lilly was a Christian woman. She believed in God and the afterlife, but she’d always been practical, and she’d never been one to believe in ghosts. Unwrapping the length of leather cord holding the sheaf of letters together she leafed through the stack, gazing down at the familiar block lettering. “I feel crazy for even speaking this aloud, but… Daniel? Are you truly here?”

The strangest sensation, like a wave of pure energy, rushed over her skin, causing every hair on her body to stand up. She shivered.

“Big Springs, you said? Very well.” She grabbed hold of the futile hope that Davy might still be alive somewhere in the desert. “I’ll go.”