When Sara realized he was gone, her heart sank. Justin had a hold on her, that was for certain. And now, he claimed they were married once, in another age. And that they lived in this house. And most astounding of all, she was the woman in the painting!

 

The ancient canvas was dusty and dull, grayed with filth placed there over the years. Brushing away more of the gray film, she held the canvas up closer to view. Long face, black hair...the woman didn't look like her. What foolishness! Except for the eyes. Sara gawked at the gentle brown irises. These were eyes she knew, had spied in the mirror for ages. The eyes were hers! They looked back in soft murmurs of recognition as though she were looking in the mirror. It was undeniable. They were her eyes. Dropping the painting, she sat back in shock.

 

A rush of long ago feelings washed over her. The dress the woman wore, the Victorian, Justin, her heart...they all danced in her mind begging her to remember. A delicious warmth washed over her, and longing, an intense longing to return and know more of those times.

 

She sat alone in the room, clutching the painting for hours. The next morning she woke on the bed, still dressed, with the picture at her feet. She glanced again at the lady in the painting with her eyes.

 

A new day. A new outlook.

 

Later, as she made coffee, a knock at the front door interrupted her. Wiping coffee grounds off her hands she rushed to answer. Perhaps it was David.

 

Through the flimsy curtain the shadowy figures loomed tall on the porch. She opened to see two men dressed in dark suits. One stood with a hands wrapped around a clipboard while the other shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. They turned her way when she appeared.

 

The restless one was younger with short reddish hair and a few rebellious freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose.

 

The other was older, dark hair, long face, more intense. "Miss McNeil?" he asked.

 

"Yes?"

 

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions. Pittsburgh Police." He flashed a gold badge he'd produced like magic from his breast pocket.

 

"Police? I don't understand."

 

"We're investigating the disappearance of David Martin. According to his wife, you are a friend of his."

 

"Oh! Well, yes, come in." She opened the door wide to let them through. "Although I can assure you I haven't seen him for days." She nodded toward the sofa and waited until they were seated, then took a side chair for herself.

 

"David Griffin." The older one extended his hand. "He's Patrick O'Malley." The younger man merely nodded.

 

"I hope you are not thinking I know something about his disappearance."

 

"You may know something without realizing it. Mrs. Martin said you and he were very...close."

 

Sara wondered what Brenda had really said, blushing at the thought. She'd probably called Sara a whore or some other vulgar term. What these men must think of her!

 

"We were close friends, but that's all."

 

"Did he ever come here?" David Griffin scanned his clipboard, running a pen down some columns, as he spoke.

 

"Well, yes. I just moved in and I...had some problems...well, he came by to help me settle in. That's all."

 

"And you haven't seen him lately?" His gray eyes met hers, point blank.

 

"No, not since I was in the hospital recently. He came to see me."

 

"Would you mind if we looked around?"

 

Sara felt taken aback. But it seemed the only way to extricate herself from their grasp.

 

"Okay." It was revolting. They thought she had David hidden away in a little love nest here of their own making.

 

The two men rose together in perfect timing. "This won't take long," the younger one, O'Malley, said.

 

They covered the first floor in only a minute or two. Sara showed them the open pantry off the kitchen. Did they want to open the oven door and check there too?

 
They climbed the stairs single file with Sara leading the way. Reached the landing, she remembered David's collapse from the overwhelming presence of Justin. She glanced at the two, but neither showed any sign of a bad reaction. Sara herself always had a twinge of dizziness where she went to the second floor.

"Just a quick look through these rooms," Griffin stated. "Won't take long."

Sara nodded and stood back to let them through. Opening the first door, O'Malley stuck his head in and pulled it out. "All clear," he stated.

Griffin had already peeked in another doorway and had now one more room to check. He opened the door wide and looked in. Glancing over, Sara saw Justin standing inside, vibrant and alive in his usual glowing mist to her eyes only, smiling mischievously in her direction. She gasped in spite of herself.

"Something wrong?" Griffin asked.

"No." Just a ghost in the room.

"Well, what's on the third floor."

"It's an attic. To tell you the truth, I've never been up there."

"Well, it's a good time to start."

Surveying the hallway, he spied a door that opened to a narrow staircase. He nodded to O'Malley to follow his lead. Sara took up the rear, grabbing a flash light from the wall by the door.

They arrived to total darkness. Sara clicked on the flashlight and panned it.

"Let me try," Griffin said, grabbing the torch. He scanned more slowly, pausing in the corners to study those areas. Sara was amazed to see junk stacked up everywhere. Boxes of old clothing, books, and knick knacks of every color and description filled the area, leaving not even a walkway through the stacks. Some day she would have to come up here again and look around.

"This is clean," he said, switching off the light and turning to go. They headed down the stairs in somber silence.

Sara sighed. Maybe now they would go and leave her alone. Feeling relief, her head cleared and the purpose of their visit finally hit her like a boulder, the idea that David was a missing person. With all that happened, that fact had eluded Sara. 

"Well, we appreciate the opportunity to look around," Griffin said in dull tones. "Do you have idea where he might be?" Once again, the gray eyes assaulted hers.

"No," she replied. "But if I knew anything, I  would certainly tell you."

"Yes, I suppose you would. Well, thank you, Ms. McNeil."

The two left, leaving Sara to wonder what had happened to David. Perhaps Justin knew.

The festive blues, pinks, and creams of the coffee shop failed to cheer Sara during her morning ritual. The chatter, usually a source for feeling in touch, today annoyed her, displacing her thoughts. Where was David? Was he in danger? Did Justin, with his numerous warnings, know something? She'd tried to communicate with Justin for two days to no avail.

Pouring in more cream, she stirred, watching the dark liquid swirl like a sultry dance.  She'd always been a positive person, believing only the best could happen, and good always prevails over evil.  A sort of blind faith that refused to acknowledge insurmountable trouble in this world. Now she confronted the supernatural on one hand and the bizarre disappearance of her friend on the other. To top it off, she'd come under criticism for something she hadn't done...namely, an affair with David. He was a good friend. That was all.

The idea of being taken to task, guilty or not, upset her. Okay, so she was one of those people who goes through life apologetically sidestepping confrontation and avoiding sticky situations. The irony was she worried just as much as if she had jumped in full guns to annoy people...a never ending worry trying not to offend. Such was the life of the eternally polite. A knock, bump, and a voice startled her.

"Sara! Good morning!" Diane Wojakowski stood next to her, holding a steaming cup and waiting to be asked to sit. Their last encounter, where Diane insinuated Sara was seeing too much of David, made her an unwelcome addition to Sara's morning. She offered up a forced smile. "Diane! I guess you come here a lot."

"From time to time," the other lady replied, laying the coffee down and pulling out a chair at Sara's table. "Not usually this early though."

"I wondered because I don't see you all the time." Sara took a sip as though the coffee was more important than the conversation. It was.

Diane studied her, eyes wide and questioning. "Didn't I hear you were in the hospital? How are you?"

"Fine. Just a little concussion."

"Oh yeah! You were wandering in the park on the snowiest day of the year and hurt yourself. Honestly, Sara! What were you thinking?"

Sara shot back a fiery glance. "I like snowy days. I just didn't realize the walking was so treacherous." It was alarming how well Diane could zoom in on her weaknesses.

"Well, I bet you don't do that again soon."

"Right."

Diane's eyes continued a relentless cut through Sara. "So do you hear from David much these days?"

"No. As a matter of fact, he's missing right now. He disappeared and no one has seen him for days."

Diane sat up.  "Really? Isn't that interesting?"

"You're looking at me as though I have something to do with it."

"Well, honey, I know he goes to your place a lot. So if you've got him, I think you should let him go."

"I don't know where he is!"

"Right." Diane patted her lips with a napkin. "But if you see him around that big old house of yours..." She leaned forward to murmur, "I'd let him go."

She rose with a flourish, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. "See you around!"

When she got home, Sara was still steamed about Diane. How dare she? How dare she make such absurd accusations?  But, of course, it was what everyone was saying. No wonder Brenda was upset with her. She had to do something to clear her name. She had to find David.

Later, Justin appeared as though he sensed her need. He came while she sat by the window, watching the wind blow snow through the trees. Something about snow made it a timeless thing. It looked and felt the same,  no matter what age you were, brought the same quiet excitement. The ten-year-old she once was stirred.

In this thoughtful state, Justin's arrival slipped right in. He spoke in a quiet voice.

"Sara!"

It made her jump, and yet she needed someone to talk to. "Justin, I'm glad you are here." For the first time, Sara paused to see the man, to study his face. Other times when he appeared, she'd fought the experience, but this time she needed him. She needed to know him, to trust him.

His eyes were blue and excited, dancing out with a playful air that invited her in. Thin lips formed a musical grin. It was a long face, but high cheek bones gave him an air of intelligence made stronger by the vivid contrast between his sky blue eyes and sleek dark hair.  

"I am always here for you, my love."

Sara blushed. "Love" when he said it, was a pink rushing thing. "Justin, I need your help," she said.

Why was it Justin's appearance made her believe in fairy tales? At first, she'd been alarmed, but lately... Normally, she trusted the good in people, but that took a while with this ghost. What am I thinking? Whether or not to trust a ghost!  The sad truth was she didn't know where else to go. David had shown an interest and trust in Justin which seemed a subtle indicator pointing in his direction now. She could almost hear David instructing her to move forward with Justin to find him.

"I know. You are worried about David."

"Well, yes! How did you know?" Sara felt her pulse quicken.

"I know your heart, Sara."

"Oh."

"I know your heart, and I know David's, too. I know David's because you know David's heart, and I know it through you."

"What?" Were her thoughts not private? "And just how can you know so much about what I think?"

"Sara." He moved closer. "I exist in the spirit, so all things of the spirit are here with me. Your thoughts are here for me to see and touch."

"Okay." Enough of that. It made her uncomfortable. "Well, can you help me find David? Do you know where he is?"

"No, because you don't. And your thoughts are mine. But I share your memories and heart. Together perhaps we can find him."

His eyes spoke to her, wanting to help, gleaming with a willingness to do so, strictly so she could be happy. Justin wanted her to be happy.

"I don't know even where to begin," she said.

"Begin at the beginning. Begin with David. What is he like?"

"Well, he's kind, intelligent, energetic. I think his foremost characteristic is how much he cares for people."

"He certainly cares for you." His eyes registered complaint.

"He cares for everybody...Justin, are you jealous?"

"Ridiculous! How can a ghost be jealous?"

"I don't know. It just seems to me if you claim to love me, then you must be capable of jealousy."

"Touche." He grimaced.

"So where do I begin to find David?" she asked.

"Well, if you know the man, then you know where to find him. Think about it."


Sara took Justin's words to heart and scoured her mind, dissecting every aspect of David's personality. Nothing concrete occurred to her as to where David might be. They first met at the Carnegie Library by the university. She wanted to choose from a more diverse collection of nineteenth century authors and had made a special trip to the main branch. It was while she was walking up and down the aisles of the stacks panning titles that he turned a corner and bumped into her.

"Excuse me!" he'd said, flashing one of his exuberant smiles. "I didn't think anyone else would be in the Dickens section."

"I love Dickens," she had replied, and a friendship was born. Later, they joined the online book club together, eventually meeting Margot and Brigid. Books were not his only passion. David dabbled in the arts; astronomy--even to the point of setting up a telescope in his attic; gardening; photography; and travel. He made occasional trips alone, lugging his camera and notebooks, while his wife, Brenda, chose to stay home. "I don't like living in a camper," she'd say. David loved his 20 ft. trailer, purchased three summers ago after years of saving for it. Perhaps that was where he was now, off on one of his little excursions. He loved those solitary trips away from it all. He was always full of stories of local folk with pictures to share when he got back. She'd have to drive past his house and see if the trailer was gone. Brenda hadn't mentioned it.

She was just finishing dinner when the phone rang.

"Sara? It's Brigid! Margot's still missing."

"What? It's been weeks. I assumed she'd shown up by now."

"That's what I was hoping. But I got an email. The police have no clue. Sara, they told me the cops dug your name and address out of her computer. Her family thinks the authorities over here in the states may come knocking on your door. They're convinced she's here."

"Oh great! I already had cops around asking about David."

"David? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, David's been missing a while now, too."

"You mean just like that? Like Margot? That's interesting. If I didn't already know they'd fought at your house, I'd wonder if they were having an affair or something. But I'm sure Margot would want nothing to do with David."

"Yeah, not after that ghost incident. She probably swore off both David and me." Sara recalled how angry Margot had become, frightened and threatened by the "ghost."

"Well, I just wanted to warn you."

Not long after Brigid's call, a knock at the door confirmed her suspicion. Griffin and his younger sidekick, O'Malley, were back.

"Ms. McNeil. May we come in?"

"Sure." She opened up.

"Well, it seems you are a friend of another missing person, Margot Hare from London. Did you know she was missing?"

"Yes, I knew."

"She was also a friend of David, right?"

"They were friends, but not likely companions. They'd argued recently."

"What about?" Griffin's eyes gleamed.

Sara's mind raced for an innocuous way to explain Margot's encounter with Justin as the impetus for rejecting David. "She was frightened when staying upstairs. She lashed out at us all."

"Staying upstairs? Frightened? Lashing out? I don't know where to begin questioning you on this one."

"Look, we were all friends from the internet. I invited them all to come and stay, meet one another, a house warming sort of. I'd just bought this Victorian."

"That explains a lot, but why was she frightened enough to lash out at friends?"

Sara hesitated. "She thought she saw a ghost."

His pen stopped in mid scrawl. He looked up. "A ghost?"

"That's what she said! I'm just telling you what she said."

"Okay. So she was angry at David. Why?"

"Well, she was mad at me, too. In fact, she packed up and left right away. She blamed me for inviting her here with the ghost, and she blamed David by extension, since he was here so much. That's the last I've heard from her."

"He was here frequently? Ms. McNeil, are you sure you don't know where he is?"

"No."

"And you don't think they could be together?"

"No."

He pocketed his pen and rose to go. O'Malley moved with him.

"Thanks, Ms. McNeil,"  he clipped. "We appreciate your time. I may have more questions later."

When they had left, Sara slumped into a chair and put her head in her hands. She had to find David simply to clear her own name.


Sara tossed the carry-on bag into the trunk of the PT Cruiser and slammed it shut. She'd tried to figure out where David might be, spending an entire day remembering every conversation. All night her eyes remained wide open while the frustration of unanswered questions bolted like lightning through her thoughts. A drive by his house revealed the camper was still there. He must have taken off on one of his trips without it. The only thing left to do was get out and hope on the open road some idea would come. Jumping in the car, she tried David's cell number one more time.

"Tell him I'm trying to reach him. This is Sara." she yelled rather than spoke when the voice mail beeped for her to speak.

Where to begin. She was prepared for a long trip but with no destination in mind. To think like David was her only hope to figure his whereabouts. Then it hit her. Start with books. David loved books, and perusing the stacks to take  books home was his favorite pastime. Making an abrupt turn, she pointed the car toward the busy streets of the university campus, where the main branch was located.

Stepping through the doors of the ancient building from glaring sunlight to dismal darkness was a shock to the eyes. Dizzy, she paused to take in the towering walls with borders of antique murals  along the ceiling depicting steelworkers with broad shoulders and helmets. It was like stepping back in time, Justin's time rather than hers. The historic building had always been an inspiration to her Victorian-minded heart, although she rarely made the trip to the main branch these days. She remembered weekly trips with her father with whom she shared a love of books. The murals had been there for her and countless generations.

A flock of  librarians, resolute and stern-faced, sat perched on high chairs, looking like birds on a wire in an elevated booth designed for checking out books. These days they worked  computers rather than with stamps or cards. The closest one nodded as Sara approached.

"Excuse me. I just wanted to ask a question," Sara said.

"Yes." The lady offered a sidelong glance as she gave her principal attention to the monitor.

"I was wondering if a fellow has been in lately, David Martin."

"David? Yes, I know him. He comes in all the time. Now that you mention it though, I don't recall seeing him lately."

"When was the last time?"

"You know, it must be about a month. Let me check the records." Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "He took out some books four weeks ago. They're overdue, as a matter of fact."

"I see. What kind of books were they? Travel, perhaps?"

"No, best-sellers. Fiction, actually."

Sara's heart fell. No clues there, except the fact the books were overdue.  "Thanks," she replied and turned away, wondering what to do next.


The decision to take old Route 40 came to Sara in a flash. David was enamored of the scenic route and had shown her countless photos of barns, quaint little churches, and majestic mountains. The little towns and compelling sense of history drew him back again and again, especially for camping in the Appalachians while stopping in each little town to seek out locals and study the rich regional history and lore. He told her it was like seeing America built from the ground up.  Sara listened to his stories in awe, wishing she could go along to enrich her books and characters from observations. But since he was married, that was out of the question. Brenda, in refusing to travel, made Sara wonder if that married couple had anything in common. But David was a man of numerous interests, and apparently he and Brenda touched base on some of them.

He had  taught her so much about life simply by example. She followed the trail in his pictures and conversations. His poignant photos and astute comments about regular people helped Sara develop her characters. Each picture told a story; each character glinted new life in her eye. And the vistas David brought home on film helped her step out of her world and into others. Yes, surely that was where David was now, out there studying people and life with his usual passion.

"Perhaps we are getting closer."

The voice sent her slamming the car into a reckless swerve, propelling it into roadside bushes with resonant bumps and thuds, while her heartbeat drummed even louder. Shaking, Sara turned to see Justin sitting in the passenger seat, an anachronism in his breeches and antique coat with ornate shoes that had never stepped inside a modern auto. She couldn't speak.

"You look surprised," he murmured.

"I've never seen you outside of the house before. I mean, you've spoken in my ear, but that's all."

"Yes, I know. The more you get to know me, the stronger my image becomes. Soon I believe we will be able to chat at will." Thin lips formed into one of his characteristic wry grins.

Sara froze. She loved him. The realization hit in the surprise of the moment. His eyes, his voice, his persona so in tune with hers, and he seemed so familiar, like she'd known him...loved him forever, a long lost friend back in her life. The familiarity broke down all barriers. But a wariness lurked in the corners, an uneasiness about his gaining power in her life. Ultimately, could he be trusted? How could you know about a ghost?

"I'm wondering if that's a good thing, chatting at will." She said it off-handedly, not wishing him to perceive her hesitancy.

"Of course,  it is." He leaned closer. "We were once a dazzling couple, you know."

"Really," she replied, her lips tightening.

"Well, are you going to make this 'thing' move like you do, so we can look for David, or aren't  you?"

"It's called an automobile, and yes, I'm going to make it move now." She hit the accelerator and reversed the PT Cruiser out of the shrubs and back to the highway, straightening it out with rash, aggressive motions.

Justin eyed her accusingly. "Honestly, I've noticed how you are always rushing about in this 'thing'! When are you going to stop and take a simple walk. Smell the fresh air and feel the sun."

"Not now. I've got to find David." She felt guilty being short, adding,. "Everybody, his wife, the police--they all think I killed him or something."

For a moment, it all came tumbling in on her... trying to clear her name, riding with a ghost in the car, fighting off the police and a jealous housewife. What was happening? Life had been so simple once. Each day was an exercise in order and thoughtfulness, starting with the coffee shop, then home to write, stopping only for meals and errands, ending before midnight as she tapped out the last words for the day.

She was just Sara McNeil, once a good Catholic school girl with promise in language skills, later a university student--although not one to lose her head and do anything radical. After graduating, she worked writing simple copy in advertising and moonlighted writing fiction, first just for her, later she sent it out to publishers. So many rejections, until finally one book made it, finding a publisher and jump-starting her career.

She was just Sara Ann McNeil, pleasant, conservative, never daring to take a chance, just plain Sara Ann McNeil. People called her  "too good to be true." She was that trustworthy. And now, a friend's wife accused her of stealing her man...or worse, and a ghost was sitting next to her in the car. How did all this happen?

"His wife, she's a bit strange, you know."

Justin's voice brought her back to the present. She glanced at him and wondered where reality had gone. Shaking her head, she mused to herself, Sara Ann McNeil is a bit strange, too, you know.

"Were you about to say something, darling?" he asked.

"No. So where are we heading? Any ideas?"

"No, my dear. I'm just along to keep you company."

Sara shot him a sidelong glance. "I don't know. I figured you ghosts know everything. I mean, you exist on another plateau,  so to speak, right? No superpowers up there or something?"

"Superpower? What is that?" His elfish smile again, was he enjoying this?

Her cell phone rang. Its jaunty music broke the spell, and when she looked up from pulling it out of her handbag, Justin was gone. Her mind felt cluttered wondering on the one hand where Justin had gone, and on the other who was on the phone. The caller ID indicated "private."

The voice on the other line was unmistakable. David!  She swerved the car again. His tone was weak and distant.

"Sara?"

"David, is that you? Where are you? Everybody is looking for you." She pulled off the road and parked. Her hand holding the phone trembled.

"Sara, it's Margot. Help me...Smithton... ."

The phone went dead.