What the hell? Maybe it had just been the house. Maybe old houses settled more than I thought they did. Shrugging, I turned around and found myself facing the antique mirror that rested against one wall. I’d moved it away from my bed because something about it made me nervous.
A man stared back at me from my reflection.
Whirling, I raised the bat, but there was no one standing behind me. I jerked back to the mirror. Sure enough, he was still there, gazing at me from inside the glass. I slowly lowered the bat. What the hell was going on? Was I hallucinating? Overtired?
Ghost. A ghost. I tried the word on my tongue as I gazed into the man’s eyes. And then I recognized him from the photo in the living room. I was staring at May’s son. Galen, who was long, long dead.
NOW THAT HE had her attention, how could he keep her from running scared? He pressed one hand against the glass and smiled softly. The last thing he wanted to do was chase her away. As he watched her struggle to believe, he noticed Circe saunter up to her mistress. The cat casually leaped onto the vanity and stretched up, her front paws leaning against the frame of the mirror. She gazed into the mirror at him, her luminous eyes almond shaped and glowing, and then let out a hiss and lightly leaped into Laurel’s arms.
Laurel stared at him, then at the cat in her arms. She whispered something—he couldn’t fully hear, being stuck in the mirror—but when she looked at him again, her gaze was soft, and a flicker of a smile rested on her lips. She shifted the cat to her left arm and raised her right hand, slowly bringing it up to meet his on the other side of the glass.
A shiver raced through him—a whisper of song on the wind. It was enough for one night. He flashed her a pale smile, then faded from sight.
AT FIRST, I only saw him in the mirror, but as I got used to his presence, Galen began to show up in other places. I’d turn around and he’d be in the corner of the kitchen. I’d be out in the garden and see him watching from the attic window. He never left the house, though, and I had the feeling he was trapped.
Circe didn’t like him, but cats and spirits didn’t mix, so I wasn’t too worried. She followed me around the house, seldom leaving my side at night.
As the weeks went by, I kept meaning to broach the subject with May, but I wasn’t sure how to begin.
Meanwhile, I pumped her with questions. If Galen was going to hang around my house, I wanted to know as much as I could about the ghostly man who always had a cheerful smile for me.
“How did Galen die?” I asked one day after we’d been talking about the renovations he’d made on the house.
She pressed her lips together. “The doctor… the doctor said he had a heart attack. But Galen was strong, he was in shape and kept his health up. One day…” Her voice cracked, but she waved away the tissue I offered her. “One day, I came over to see why he hadn’t shown up for breakfast. It was the morning after Halloween. His body was on the floor in the bedroom. He… just died.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wondering if that was why he’d come back. Maybe he wanted May to know something. “What was he like?”
May sniffed back her tears as she picked up the rolling pin. She was attempting to teach me how to make pie crust. Baking wasn’t one of my strong suits, but with a tree full of apples growing ripe in the side yard, it just seemed wrong to let them go to waste.
“He was a good man,” she finally said. “He was the son every mother dreams of having. Strong, handsome, good hearted, loved animals. He never had a date because all the girls wanted to
She shook her head. “I’ll never understand,” she added, then stopped abruptly, looking at me. “I’m sorry…”
I stared at the pie crust as she gently flipped it over the rolling pin, then spread it over the deep pie dish. How could I explain? I’d been explaining for months to people… and making excuses for years to myself.
“Sometimes… you believe what you’re told. That nobody else will ever want you. That you’re worthless. You believe it because you grow up hearing it over and over. Jason was a god in my eyes. He acted—he told me—he was doing me a favor by loving me. None of my mother’s string of boyfriends were role models, and I was so shy that nobody else ever asked me out. How could I avoid falling for a man who I thought could actually love me? Who promised to love me forever?”
I busied myself with the teakettle, then gave up and looked at her bleakly. “It ended the day after our honeymoon. And I was so embarrassed, I could never tell anyone just how bad our marriage was.”
May laid a gentle hand on my arm. “I know, child. I know. I understand.”
“Not all of us are strong,” I whispered, dropping several tea bags in the chintz pot. “Not all of us know how to be strong.”
After that, May came over a lot. She taught me how to bake. She strolled with me through the gardens and showed me which were weeds and which would blossom into flowers come spring. And always, always in the background, Galen hovered at the edge of my vision.
At night, I talked to him. Sometimes he showed himself, others not, but I always knew he was there. I’d tell him about my day while I folded laundry or brought out my paints or thumbed through the newspaper. And meanwhile, I did research on ghosts to find out just what I was dealing with.
But for all my research, I still couldn’t figure out what Galen wanted. He wouldn’t talk to me—I didn’t even know if he could—and he never ventured outside. If he wanted to resolve some lingering issue with his mother, he would have been falling all over himself to appear when she came over. All the books did was to confirm that some ghosts were benign, others weren’t, and that some might just be memories trapped in a space-time continuum.
But as the weeks wore on, I did know one thing for certain: I enjoyed his company. Galen was the perfect roommate—undemanding, quiet, and there every night. And he really listened to me—even though I didn’t know if he could actually hear me.
Eventually, I began to feel more than just friendship… enough to start undressing in front of the antique mirror where he appeared in my bedroom. On a morbid note, it occurred to me that I was probably standing right where he had when he’d died, but I pushed the thought away. And when he stared at me as I let my clothes drop to the ground, I made it worth the look.
HE HAD HER, and he knew he had her. Jason had been right—she was pliable. And before long, he’d have his freedom. The house had held him chained for years. But he always knew there was one way out. He didn’t dare show himself to his mother—she might offer herself and that would never do. He’d never be able to live with the guilt. But this girl… this woman… she would make it possible for him to slip out from behind the mirror. To walk into the light.
He had to win her trust, had to convince her that he was safe. And so he listened to her, night and day, and no one was the wiser.
Circe planted herself on Laurel’s lap or on the floor between them whenever he showed up. Whatever the case, he wasn’t afraid. There was no way she could expose him, even though she could see right through his smiles.
Gradually, Laurel began to let down her guard. Galen found himself mesmerized by the sight of her as she stood naked, caressing herself through the dark sultry nights. Autumn wore on and instead of growing more excited about his impending release, he began to dread the turn of the days.
Each night, he hesitated a little bit more. The sound of her voice, static-ridden though it may be, filled him with the urge to smile. Galen began to live for the evenings when they could spend time together.
At the end of each day, they bid each other good night with hands pressed against the glass, touching through the veils. And Galen began to question his plan, because there was something in Laurel’s eyes that gave
