Christmas Ghosts - Fiction River (13 page)

“This is a family heirloom,” said Stella. “Its magic helped four generations find true love, including your Mom. Now, it’s your turn, Rowan.”

The moment the clock touched Rowan’s palm it glimmered a soft red, the hands spinning.

Rowan laughed. “Magic? Really, Grandma?”

“During Christmas, the clock glows in the presence of true love.”

She put Mallory’s hand on top of Rowan’s. The moment their hands touched, the clock gleamed purple. The hands stopped, ticking slowly forward now.

Rowan smiled at Mallory. “It’s glowing.”

Stella grinned. “Like snowflakes, no two loves are alike. When fire and earth collide, like two hearts, they entwine forever—like crystal.”

Was there magic in this clock or was it just a game?

All Mallory knew for sure was that she’d been crazy about Rowan since high school. She looked up and he was staring at her.

“We need an engagement ring,” said Rowan.

“Here,” said Stella. “Use mine. I’ll put a bit of tape on the band. It’s a little big for Mallory.”

Rowan grinned. “Will you marry me, Mall?”

“Not even on one knee,” Mallory snapped, rolling her eyes.

He sighed, dropping to one knee. He slid the ring onto Mallory’s left ring finger. “Will you marry me for five days, Mall?”

“I will.”

He stood up and put his arms around her. His kiss was like a lightning strike coursing through every nerve and blood vessel. He let her go and she gasped, overwhelmed by the heat and force.

“I hope this works,” said Rowan, glancing at the clock.

“Me, too,” Mallory whispered, gripping his hand.

***

The next day, Rowan put a sign on the door, closing the shop at 4 P.M. on Christmas Eve and mentioning the private engagement party for Rowan Brophy and his fiancée, Mallory.

All weekend, he and Mallory were inseparable, kissing and holding hands in public, shopping and eating out. The news spread fast through the island town. Sunday night, when Mallory and Rowan walked back to his apartment, Rowan found all four of his truck tires slashed.

Inside, Lindsey left forty-eight messages on his answering machine. All of them were screaming, hate-filled rants, threatening him and Mallory. But the last message was the most chilling.

“Merry Christmas, Rowan,” she whispered and hung up.

Rowan was shaking as he sat down on the sofa. Mallory went into the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of fridge, opening them. Two cans of Coke leaned against a six-pack of Pyramid ale.

She shuddered, remembering them still in the fridge a year later. Fear washed over her now. She couldn’t lose Rowan. Somewhere over the past few days, she’d fallen in love with him.

She handed Rowan an ale. He took a long pull off the bottle as Mallory settled beside him. He snuggled against her, arms around her.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Mall,” he whispered, pressing feather kisses across her neck and mouth, sipping her lips.

“I’m so glad I walked into your shop this week,” said Mallory.

“I put in
It’s a Wonderful Life
,” he said between kisses. “Let’s lasso the moon.”

“And the stars,” said Mallory as the movie’s opening credits appeared.

***

The next morning, Christmas Eve, Mallory awoke on the couch in Rowan’s arms, her face against his chest. Marshall was curled up between them. She caressed Rowan’s face, sexy with beard shadow and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. The snowflake clock lay beside him, still glowing purple.

His eyes rolled open and he smiled through half-closed lids. “Mornin’, Mall.” He kissed her softly on the lips.

“Good morning,” she said, “Merry Christmas.”

He stiffened, his face turning pale.

“Sorry,” she said, remembering last night’s creepy message from Lindsey.

He sat up, shooing the cat onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his face. “What time is it?”

“Nine,” Mallory replied, stretching.

“I’ve got to open the shop,” he said, sounding distant and distracted. He glanced at the answer machine. No new messages.

The calm before the storm.

“I need a shower,” said Mallory.

“Okay, see you soon,” he said, pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

Mallory left the apartment to make preparations at Hildy’s place.

***

It was almost one o’clock when Mallory entered the shop, carrying mochas and pastries. Marshall lay on the counter beside Rowan who rang up items for a huge line of customers. The red sign announcing the engagement party in big, bold letters was still on the door.

Rowan’s head snapped up when the bell chimed. His welcoming grin softened her uneasiness as she stepped behind the counter, setting down a coffee and a pastry for him. He wore a thick green sweater, jeans, and those familiar hiking boots.

Mallory saw the snowflake clock tied onto Marshall’s green collar.

“Hi, Mall,” Rowan said, leaning up for a kiss.

“The fiancée?” Mrs. Ridgeway asked, smiling. She lived up the street from the Kitterings.

Rowan nodded. “That’s my woman.”

Mallory stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders with the ring on display. He patted her hand.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she whispered in his ear.

“Same,” he replied.

***

Mallory handed out candy canes and wrapped purchases while Rowan rung them up. She pulled out her smartphone, checking the time. Three forty-eight. Almost closing time. Then she checked Lindsey’s blog.

Every photo of Rowan had been digitally spattered red with blood. Lindsey’s post was short, saying it was her last for a while because she was about to confront her cheating fiancé. The last line read,
Merry Christmas
.

The door chime jangled. Sheriff Clark walked in wearing jeans and a heavy black sweater. He moved toward Mallory, carrying a brown grocery bag.

“Do you have it?” Mallory asked.

He nodded. “Rick’s right behind me.”

“Look at this,” said Mallory, handing him the phone.

Sheriff Clark stared wide-eyed at the pictures as Rick walked in the door. Rowan rang up the last customer.

“Sheriff, please,” Mallory whispered, her stomach in knots. “Do everything you can to protect him. He means so much to me.”

Sheriff Clark patted the grocery bag. “I’ll stay right with him, Mallory. You have my word.”

He moved over to the counter. “Rowan, a word in back, please.”

Rowan followed the sheriff into the back room as Mallory turned the open sign over and locked the door.

“I’ve got an unmarked car outside, just in case, Mall,” he said.

“Thanks, Rick,” said Mallory.

In a few minutes, the Sheriff and Rowan returned, Rowan adjusting his sweater.

And the wait began.

***

By seven o’clock, it was dark, lights sparkling outside as it began to snow. Big, heavy flakes. Mallory watched them fall, looking so beautiful against twinkling Christmas lights. She glanced past Rowan’s coral Christmas tree, searching for a sign of Lindsey Tull. But everything was still and quiet.

At eight o’clock, Sheriff Clark called it.

Everyone put on their coats and filed out of the store together. Mallory stepped out ahead of Rowan who turned to lock the door.

A shadow flitted past the edge of Mallory’s vision.

She turned at the flash of white.

Lindsey Tull stepped out of the darkness, leveling a silver handgun at Rowan’s head.

“No!” Mallory shouted.

She lunged at Lindsey, tackling her as she pulled the trigger. The air popped, sounding like a child’s toy. Everything smelled burnt and hot as Rowan fell back, dropping to his knees.

Shouts then sirens erupted, shadows rushing past as Mallory beat Lindsey’s arm against the pavement until she dropped the gun. Sheriff Clark and Rick were on her now.

Tears surged down Mallory’s face as she crawled across the snow-covered pavement toward Rowan slumped against the door, clutching his chest.

Mallory called out to him, reaching, but the world was moving away from him. Somewhere, a clock was ticking.

She shouted as the distance increased, pulling her away.

***

Mallory awoke in the closet. With the snowflake clock in her hand, glowing blue.

She fumbled out of the tangle of clothes. Her laptop set on the bed,
It’s a Wonderful Life
still paused.

Her heart sank. She’d failed.

The clock’s strange magic had given her a once-in-a-lifetime chance to save Rowan and she’d failed. Lindsey Tull still shot him.

Marshall bounded into the bedroom, startling her. He sat down, a huge red and green bow around his neck. And a sign. She squinted at it.

I’m a cat and cats don’t beg, but for catnip, I agreed to carry this sign. Somewhere between the mocha, the blueberry-peach crumble, and the snowflake clock, my buddy fell in love with you. Now, there’s a question that needs an answer.

Shaking, Mallory ran out of the bedroom.

Rowan stood in the hallway, grinning.

She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “Rowan! Oh God, Rowan! You’re alive!”

He laughed, enfolding her in his arms. “Of course, I’m alive!”

It’s a Wonderful Life
was paused on the television. In the corner stood a seven-foot Douglas fir dripping with gold and silver ornaments and sparkling with snowflakes and colored lights, a dozen or so wrapped presents underneath. A large snowflake gleamed purple at the top of the tree.

“You’re crying! You have a bad dream?” His gaze softened as he wiped the tears off her face.

She nodded. “About last Christmas. You died.”

He held her tighter. “It was just a bad dream, Mall. That’s all over now.”

“Remind me what happened,” she asked.

He frowned, looking confused. “Thanks to your quick tackle and convincing Sheriff Clark I needed a bulletproof vest, Lindsey only broke three of my ribs. She’ll be gone a long time. Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Tell me again,” she said.

“I love you, Mallory. You saw my sign, right? I have a question.” He dropped down on one knee. “Will you spend the rest of forever with me?” He slid a big, square diamond ring onto her left ring finger.

Mallory could barely speak. “Yes, every single moment of it. I love you, Rowan.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her.

“Merry Christmas at last, Rowan,” said Mallory, laying her head on his chest, then whispered, “It’s about time.”

Introduction to
“The Ghost of Willow’s Past”

M.L. Buchman is one of those overnight sensations whose night lasted decades before his work came to the attention of readers. He’s published in a variety of genres under several names. But M.L. Buchman is the one that took off. In the past year, his fantastic military romances have become extremely popular
and
critically acclaimed.
Booklist
named
The Night is Mine
one of the top ten romances of the year, and NPR called
I Own The Dawn
one of the top five romances of the year.

Like Lisa Silverthorne, Matt also chose the Pacific Northwest as the setting for his story. “The Ghost of Willow’s Past,” which is part of his series The Night Stalkers, takes place in Portland, Oregon. To tell much more about the story will spoil its delicate beauty. So without further ado, I’ll let you delve into this sweet romantic tale.

The Ghost of Willow’s Past

M.L. Buchman

“And Tomotada looked so long upon her face it grew rosy red from chin to forehead, and though she smiled, her eyes filled with tears.”

—from “Green Willow” (an ancient Japanese folk tale of a samurai who marries the ghost of a willow tree)

Master Sergeant Dustin James nudged a clod of dirt back into place with the toe of his boot. The rich black soil of the Portland Oregon Rose Garden simply dissolved and left a blackish patch of mud on the worn leather. Today was the Winter Solstice. It was raining and about three degrees above freezing. Pretty typical. He stared down at the
Rosa canina
.

This rose had been propagated from a cutting of the oldest documented rose bush on the planet. The rose now huddled, dormant and pruned back for the winter. In bloom, it was the least assuming rose in the garden, a single layer of five pink petals around a yellow center. Four days before Christmas, it was a cluster of frosty twigs decorated by bright red rose hips.