Pumpkin Pie Passion

"I was invited." I said quietly, confused.

"By whom?" Her voice raised to a higher pitch. "I don't like liars or thieves. There is nothing in that house of value." Then she lowered her voice, "Except one thing. I came here for that one thing."

"The owner invited me. Tall, dark, handsome, green eyes."

"Bullocks!" She growled at me, hobbling past me and into the house. I stood at the doorway, poised to flee, but wanting answers. She found the picture frame on the ground. Thankfully, it had not broken when I dropped it. She used her sleeve to dust it off and stared lovingly at the picture. I had walked in after her and stood at her shoulder, peering over.

"Do you know him?" I asked in barely a whisper.

"Of course I know him. Don't be ridiculous. He is my twin brother Gavin." Hearing the name, all my fears seemed to have been confirmed. At my gasp, the woman turned around and pinned me with her green gaze.

"What?"

"How long ago?"

"You get to be my age, time slips away. He died on this very night, 35 years ago. I come here every Samhain and leave him a rose, hoping he will make an appearance. But it has not yet happened." She said sadly. "What's your name?" Her voice dripped with suspicion and disdain.

"Autumn." Her eyes grew wide. "May I ask how he died?"

"In a fire on this very night. Funny, this house smells of pumpkins. Gavin used to make the best pumpkin pie ever." She smiled briefly at the memory. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"I know." I murmured under my breath. The woman gaped at me.

"You have seen him." Not a question. "You are the Autumn he has been waiting for. You have to be." She started rambling on about some story or some vision he had the night before he died. She stopped talking, considered it, then handed the rose and the picture frame to me.

"Keep them." Her fingers bit into my wrist.

"Why?"

"It's what he would want." She said mysteriously, a beautiful smile on her face. She let go of my arm and walked out the door without another word. I stood in the foyer, watching her leave, not having the energy to stop her. I sat on the first step of the large staircase that stood behind me. The frame had cracked when I dropped it, although the glass was still intact. I lifted the picture out and turned it over. On the back, the words "To Autumn, my pumpkin pie." were scrawled on it.

"Passion." I whispered, turning the picture over and stroking the handsome face. I stood up, ready to leave this eerie place, but I heard footsteps and shrugged off the chill that overtook my body. I refused to acknowledge any presence, living or dead. A shadow fell over me and I feared to look up. Enough bizarre things had happened this night. I was still trying to process the possibility that I had just made love to a ghost. Gran, what more could you have in store for me? I asked my grandmother's spirit. For I knew my grandmother certainly had a hand in this. Why wasn't my loved one walking around in the flesh, on this night of spirits? I sighed heavily, hoping whoever was in front of me would get bored with my disinterest and walk away.

"Ahem." A deep voice spoke. I slowly looked up and took a step back, tripping up the stairs and falling hard. A hand reached out to steady me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." My hand flew to my heart; it was still beating, right? I gulped mouthfuls of air. The man's green eyes stared into mine.

"Miss, you look like you've seen a ghost." He said softly, taking in my pale pallor and wide eyes. The dark raven wing hair was much shorter, but there was no doubt of the resemblance.

"Who are you?" I asked with difficulty.

"I'm Ewan. This is my family's home. I have come to claim it. Might I ask why you are here, Miss?"

"Autumn." I stated flustered, taking the proffered hand. He lifted me to my feet and steadied me. "Your family?"

"Yes. This was my mother's brother's home." He said quietly, his eyes held sadness in them. "It isn't much." He said, looking around surveying his surroundings. "It still smells a bit like smoke. But, I think a fresh coat of paint and all new furniture will fix that." He ran his hand along the wall. "This retro paneling will have to be the first thing to go." He scrunched up his face in distaste. He dropped a paper bag onto, what I could only imagine was a coffee table, beneath the white sheet.

"Smoke?" I stammered. Hadn't the old woman said something about Gavin dying in a fire?

"From the fire." He supplied, giving me a quizzical look. I nodded my head, dumbly. "Do you know anything about my family? Everyone in this town thinks they know the truth." He said bitterly. "It is the reason I left. The curse." He scoffed.

"I am new." I felt ridiculous, answering in one word sentences.

"You look like you need to sit down." So saying, he walked over to one of the sheet covered couches and swept the cover off of it. I recognized the mossy-green leather couch from last night. It had several burn marks in it and I wondered about it. Trembling, I sat down. He sat next to me, his knee touching mine. "I don't bite." He promised. I nodded again. "I wonder if I could have this couch reupholstered. It seems a shame that such a comfortable piece of furniture should be tossed just because of some ash and soot." He was lost in thought, and I blushed as memories arose to the surface. He stared at me, then shook his head, as if to clear it. "Strange."

"Anyway, my mother and uncle lived here. They were not only twins, they were best friends. The tragedy happened the night that I was born. Father had rushed mom to the hospital. She was in labor and the contractions were coming upon her fast. Uncle Gavin wasn't the most together man, I am told. He was baking a pumpkin pie to take to the hospital. It was my Mom's favorite and his specialty." He paused to look over at the paper bag on the table. "My father called Uncle Gavin to ask him to bring Mom's stuff. They were going to keep her, because I was coming quickly. Uncle Gavin was so excited and nervous for Mom that he packed her stuff up and headed out the door. Half way across the yard, he remembered her pie. He ran back into the house to retrieve it, but a fire had started in the kitchen." He took a deep breath. "He never made it out."

"That's awful." I said.

"It was. It was decided that no one would tell Mom, until after I was safely delivered. But, with her twin connection, she already knew. She screamed her agony of child birth pain and sorrow at the top of her lungs and out I came." His eyes were downcast, as he spoke. "My mother never came to terms with her brother's death. She always told me I reminded her of him. Having never met him, I couldn't say if that is true or not."

"I think I just met your Mom, right before you came here." I interrupted him. "She reamed me a new one for trespassing and then had a strange reaction when I told her my name was Autumn." He stared at me, anger in his eyes.

"My mother died tonight." His whispered voice fierce and full of emotion.

"What?" I gaped at him.

"I just came for the hospital. My mother died at midnight, on the dot, just as her brother did all those years ago." He brooded silently for a few minutes. He noticed the picture frame in my hand and took it from me, turning it over. "This is my Uncle. Why do you have it?" He had the same accusing voice and stare that his mother had.

"You won't believe me." I said weakly. My head was spinning, and I felt sick to my stomach.

"Why?" He demanded. His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened.

"Your mother gave it to me. I'm telling you, just before you came into the house, I had a conversation with a woman claiming her brother died here. She was very angry with me and said she came to this house every year to leave a rose, hoping her brother would have finally come for her. She was beautiful, with lovely silver hair and rosy cheeks, green eyes like yours. Anyway, she told me she came for this picture. But, when she heard my name, she told me she knew of my heritage and gave the picture back to me. I turned it over and read the inscription." Ewan flipped the frame over and read the same inscription I had. "To Autumn, my pumpkin pie."

"So?" Clearly, he wasn't impressed. He ran his hand wearily through his black hair. I pointed to the name and then myself.

"That's me."

"Impossible. You wouldn't have been born yet." He argued.

"There is more to tell you. I'm tired though. I have had a very long, eventful night." I tried to beg out. But he was having none of it. He leaned forward and sniffed me.

"You smell like pumpkin." He stated flatly. This was getting more and more bizarre. The wind kicked up outside and a door upstairs slammed shut. We both stared at each other. I hugged my arms to keep the chill away and to protect myself.

"What the hell?" He growled. Then the door blew open, slamming against the wall. A figure stood in the doorway. It was slight of height and a bit hunched over. Recognizing the posture, I ran to the figure.

"Gran!" I cried, throwing my arms around my dear grandmother. She smiled softly at me and held me a moment before looking upon the man.

"Gavin." Her gentle voice spoke.

"Ewan." He corrected.

"Same difference." Grandmother grinned. "You have been given another chance. You should use this chance wisely." We stared at her stunned. "You have learned to be less careless with your possessions, your time, and your heart."

"I'm so confused! Please, someone give me an answer." Grandmother patted my hand.

"Dear Autumn. Up until your fated meeting, this man had never allowed another soul into his life, aside from his twin sister. He was forgetful and withdrawn. He died before love could touch his life. But when he died, his sister made a vow and a promise: that should he be spared, she would reform him and bring him out of his shell. Her prayers were answered. On the night of her brother's death, her own child was born. Gavin was allowed to return to this earth, in the body of the baby: a second chance, a new start, a new life. Viviane kept her promise. She raised her son to the light. She raised him to be a good man, a kind man, a gentle man, a strong man, a loving man." She dropped her voice to a whisper only I could hear. "She raised him to be your match in every way." We both listened.

"I can't accept this." I shook my head, even at my own grandmother. "Are you telling me that I time traveled? And that Ewan is actually Gavin, reincarnated?"

"Something like that, dear-heart. I have told you time and time again that you would one day have to face and honor your heritage. That time has come. It is Samhain. The veil is thin. You slipped through the veil and landed 35 years in the past. Can you not accept that this man who stands before you, is the same man who made love to you a few hours before? Albeit in a different body." She winked. I blushed three shades of red, when Ewan looked over at me. What must he be thinking of all of this? He lifted a few strands of red hair off my shoulder. I felt dizzy at the contact. His eyes closed and he seemed no longer with me. Then he reopened them and stared at me.

"You." One word. Realization apparently had dawned upon him. "My dream girl. I have dreamed of you ever since I was a teenager. I never saw your face. All I was allowed to see was your hair and you smelled of pumpkin pie." He stroked my cheek, a tingling of energy and recognition hit me. "I remember. Oh God. Where are these memories coming from? I have never met you in my life. Pumpkin pie, whipped cream, your sweet voice. Your soft lips. Autumn."

Ewan staggered forward, as though something had pushed him. He whipped a white sheet off a dusty old mirror that was hanging in the foyer. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He blinked in shock. Staring back him was himself, only not. The man and his reflection could have been twins. The only real difference was the hue of green in their eyes and the length and texture of their hair. The longer haired version, Gavin, had love in his eyes. Ewan turned to me and came forward to kiss my forehead. "Thank you."

"For what?" I gave him a blank stare. His solemn face broke into a huge grin and the man I had spent such memorable moments with kissed my lips.

"An eternity of Autumn, no more." He whispered mysteriously. His image faded away, leaving me standing before a stranger -- a stranger - who had a rather determined look in his eye.

"I have to touch you." And Ewan did. We sunk to the leather couch, and I touched him in turn. So familiar to me, and yet so new. He knew how to touch me; he retained Gavin's memories of our time together.

"You are wild like the wind blowing through the trembling leaves." He whispered in my ear, before kissing me. He reached down to my feet, giving me a teasing smile when he saw the orange Halloween socks, with the black kitties. I grinned back at him, wiggling my toes. He reached over to the white sheeted coffee table and pulled the paper bag over. I tried to peek, curiosity getting the best of me. But he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me back down. He removed an aluminum pan from the bag and plucked a fork off the top, opening the lid.

"Pumpkin pie?" He waggled his eyebrows, in that familiar way.

"Passion." I breathed, no longer feeling weird, no longer questioning. I knew we had been given a gift. A strange, rare, beautiful gift.

END

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