Manchester Mansion

For moments afterward, she lay there as reality slowly made it's way back to her brain. She thought she could hear his voice, but it seemed to be coming from far away and she struggled to hear his words. Somehow she knew it was important that she know what he was saying, yet she couldn't make herself understand and she couldn't open her eyes.

"Beth?" she heard him say.

"Yes? What is it, John Royal?"

"Do you believe in the existence of ghosts?"

"Don't be silly. Of course I don't. Would I be here, in a 'haunted' house, if I did? On Halloween?"

"Probably not. It might scare you, being surrounded by dead people. Having them touch you. Talk to you."

"No, I don't think it would. They're dead... what can the dead do?"

She opened her eyes, surprised that he was standing in the doorway. How had he gotten to the door so fast? And completely dressed? He was smiling, but it was as if his mind was in some other place.

"You're still so naïve. That's what I've always liked about you most. You're not as innocent as you were, but I like that, too."

"You're talking weird again, Mr. Royal."

His smile remained, but he seemed almost sad.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, making her wonder at his mental state.

"You're John Royal. What is there to remember?"

He walked into the room, sitting on the bed beside her. She wondered when she had sat up, when she had pulled the top of her dress up.

"Look at me, Beth. Really look. Can you remember? This house, these clothes? Does any of it make you recall when we were last together?"

"What's going on? Not even ten minutes ago you were here, beside me, we were making love...how...? You....?"she pointed at the door.

He was shaking his head in a negative manner, yet seemed happy.

"No," he said. "You just sat down, one minute ago. What do you remember?"

"It isn't a memory...we just made love...What's going on? Johnnycake, something is wrong. This feels too weird."

His smile broadened. "What did you just call me?"

"What? Does it matter? This whole evening has felt strange. Like.. How did you make the house change so much right after I walked in? And why have you never told me you own it? Why do you seem so different tonight? What's going on, John?"

He hesitated only a moment before speaking. "It isn't my house, but I've been in it several times and have always liked it. It holds some of my best memories."

"Who's house is it?" "It last belonged to Elizabeth Manchester."

"No. The last Manchester grandson was the last owner."

"It never belonged to him. It was his aunts'. She left when her fiance died. He tripped over one of her shoes she'd left at the top of the stairs, the first night they made love. He broke his neck and died at the bottom . She never forgave herself, thinking it was her fault. He never left here, hoping she'd return, for over a hundred years. Until recently, when he found her again."

"What you're saying... it can't be."

"But it is," he whispered against her hair. "Think about it, Elizabeth. Then think back as far as you can. We can be together again, as we were, as we're meant to be."

Feeling the start of what might be a splitting headache, Beth closed her eyes and laid back on the bed. What was there to think about? She'd never been happier than she had been these last seven months with John Royal. They stayed at her house because he didn't like to go out; he didn't like his picture taken and would delete the pictures on her camera before she even had a chance to see them; he didn't want her telling her friends about him because he didn't think it was time yet. How stupid of a reason was that, and why did she fall for it? She wondered. More importantly, why had she never questioned any of it? She had merely accepted everything he told her, had made herself believe it made sense, and ignored any questions that may have popped up. Now, if what he was implying was true, it made perfect sense. But no logic.

The throbbing in her head intensified. Until he touched her, stroking her hair, kissing her neck.

"I love you, Elizabeth. I have, always, and I shall until the end of time."

Oh, how she wanted to tell him the same! That without him, her life was meaningless. That just thinking about him made her heart race and always put a smile on her face. She wanted him to know that just being in the same room with him made her feel complete. But she could never bring herself to say the words.

Opening her eyes, she was again surprised. This time because not only was the room darkened, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt, staring at her exposed breasts still red from his touches. She watched as he stood up, tucking everything into his pants again.

"One day you'll tell me the words, but I can wait. I'm a patient man. Now, my love, I'm going to go back to the party so no one, hopefully, suspects I've secreted you away up here. I'll see you downstairs."

He put on his vest, his jacket, his shoes. Confused, she kept quiet, no longer knowing what was real and what was...something else. When he got to the door she sat up, pulling the top of her dress up as much as she could.

"Don't forget your mask," he reminded her as he left the room.

Standing up, she smoothed the gown down around her then looked for her shoes. There was only one, where he had dropped it near the bed. The other one was...

"He tripped over her shoe," she said, recalling what John Royal had told her.

She suddenly pictured him, lying in a twisted heap at the bottom of the massive staircase, blood seeping from his mouth as he gasped for air. And even then, she couldn't make herself say the words he needed to hear, the words she needed to say.

Running from the room, she hoped she wasn't too late.

"Johnny!" she called. "Johnny, wait!"

She saw him stop at the top of the stairs.

"What is it, Miss Barber?" he said to her.

"I remember."

He laughed.

"We met seven months ago. In my fathers office. You said, 'I've been waiting for you,' and I laughed. How could you possibly be waiting for me when we'd never met and I had no idea who you were? Then you told me not to laugh, you were serious. I later learned my father had told you I had a habit of just running in whenever I felt like it, whether he was with a client or not. But I knew, as soon as I saw you, that my life would never be the same again. I was right."

"I've a feeling there's more?"

"I love you, John Royal. And I need my shoe."

~ ~ ~

"That wasn't a very scary story, Grandma," the little girl said.

Elizabeth smiled, remembering the first time her grandmother had told her the story of her great grandparents love. She had been more fascinated with the idea of carriages that drove themselves, and people in little boxes than she had been in the actual story. Of course, now she was more fascinated by the fact her grandmother had known about cars and televisions. Was there some truth to the tale?

"But Grandma," the other little girl said, "Why did those men put the numbers after their names? The men at the party?"

"Well, that's because that was the year they died."

"They were dead?" the oldest girl asked.

"Of course. It was Halloween. And as my great granddaddy said, that's the night the dead come back to life."

"Do you believe that?" the younger girl asked.

"Do we go in the ballroom on Halloween night?" she whispered.

Both girls' eyes got large as they shook their heads.

"No, we don't. Now, go out and have fun with Mommy and Daddy, bring Grandma back some good candy."

"We will!" they both said as they scrambled out of their chairs, ready for a night of trick or treating.

As she had every year since first hearing the story, Elizabeth made her way along the entry hall to the closed doors of the ballroom at the back of the house. Ear against the door, she could hear the faint sound of the music playing, of distant voices. Somewhere in there was her namesake and the man who had waited patiently for a second chance to love her.