Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(82)

“Of course not,” the ghost said acidly. “How could that be possible if it doesn’t fit in with your existential beliefs? It’s probably another psychotic delusion. Except that Sam seems to be in on this one.” He went to the wall and lowered himself to the floor, one arm curled loosely around a bent knee. He looked weary and ashen. But he couldn’t be tired—he was a spirit, beyond the thrall of physical weakness. “As soon as I saw the window in the crate yesterday,” the ghost said, “I remembered what happened to me and Emma. What I did.”

Alex braced his arms on the balcony railing and stared at the window. The jeweled green leaves sparkled in a way that gave the illusion of movement, a soft breeze blowing through the tree limbs.

“I was a couple of years older than Emma,” the ghost said, emotions rising through the air like incense. “I avoided her whenever possible. She was off-limits. Growing up on the island, you knew which people you could be friendly with, which girls you could spark and which ones you couldn’t.”

“Spark?”

The ghost smiled slightly. “That’s the word they used for kissing.”

Alex sort of liked that. Sparks … kisses … creating fire.

“Emma was out of my league,” the ghost continued. “Smart, classy, rich family. She could be headstrong at times—but she had the same sense of kindness as Zoë. She would never hurt anyone if she could help it. When Mr. Stewart hired me to install the stained-glass window, his wife told all three daughters to keep out of my way. Don’t socialize with the handyman. Emma ignored her, of course. She sat and watched me work, asking questions. She was interested in everything. I fell for her so hard, so fast … It was like I’d loved her before I’d even met her.

“We met in secret all through the summer and part of autumn—we spent most of our time at Dream Lake. Sometimes we’d take a boat out to one of the outer islands and spend the day. We didn’t talk much about the future. The war was going on in Europe but everyone knew it was just a matter of time until we got into it. And Emma knew I was planning to enlist. After basic training, the Army Air Corps could turn a civilian with no flight experience into a qualified pilot in a couple of months.” He paused. “Early November in ’41—this was before Pearl Harbor—Emma told me she was pregnant. The news hit me like an anvil, but I told her we’d get married. I talked to her father and asked for his consent. Although he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation, he wanted the wedding to happen as soon as possible, to avoid scandal. He was pretty decent about it. It was the mother who I thought might kill me. She believed Emma was lowering herself by marrying me, and she was right. But there was a baby on the way, so no one had a choice. We set the wedding date for Christmas Eve.”

“You weren’t happy about it,” Alex said.

“Hell, no, I was terrified. A wife, a baby … none of that had any connection to who I was. But I knew what it was like to grow up without a father. There was no way I’d let that happen to the baby.

“After Pearl Harbor, every guy I knew headed to the local recruiting office to sign up. Emma and I agreed that I’d hold off enlisting until after the wedding. A few days before Christmas, Emma’s mother called and told me to come to the house. Something had happened. I knew it was bad from the sound of her voice. I got there just as the doctor was leaving. He and I talked on the front porch for a few minutes, and then I went upstairs to Emma, who was in bed.”

“She’d lost the baby,” Alex said quietly.

The ghost nodded. “She started bleeding in the morning. Just a little at first, but it got worse hour by hour, until she had a miscarriage. She looked so small in that bed. She started crying when she saw me. I held her for a long time. When she quieted down, she took off the engagement ring and gave it to me. She said she knew I hadn’t wanted to marry her, and now that the baby was gone, there was no reason. And I told her she didn’t have to make any decisions right then. But for a split second I was relieved, and she saw that. So she asked me if I thought I would be ready for marriage someday. If she should wait for me. I told her no, don’t wait. I said even if I made it through the war and came back, she would never be able to count on me. I told her love didn’t last—she’d feel the same way about some other guy, someday. I even believed it. She didn’t argue with me. I knew I was hurting her, but I thought it would spare her a lot more pain in the future. I told myself it was for her own good.”

“Cruel to be kind,” Alex said in agreement.

The ghost barely seemed to have heard him. After a contemplative silence, he said, “That was the last time I ever saw her. When I walked out of that bedroom and headed to the stairs, I passed by this window. The glass had changed. The leaves had disappeared, and the sky had darkened, and a winter moon had appeared. An honest-to-God miracle. But I couldn’t let myself think about what it meant.”

Alex couldn’t understand what the ghost thought was so appalling and shameful in such a confession. He’d acted honorably in offering to marry Emma when circumstances had merited. There had been nothing wrong about breaking off the engagement after the miscarriage—Emma had hardly been left alone and destitute. And Tom was going to enlist anyway.

“You did the right thing,” Alex volunteered. “You were honest with her.”