Caribbean Ghosts

The scent, a floral symphony with a touch of sandalwood always evoked a sense of warmth and security. Yet now it felt oddly out of place too strong like it had just been liberally applied rather than lingering in the fabric. A shiver of unease prickled her skin.

Then another sensation - a soft rustling of the curtains by the French doors leading to the veranda. It was too gentle to be the island breeze. Her heart pounded in her chest. Had there been someone there?

She nudged Liz beside her. "Liz, wake up. Do you smell that?"

Liz stirred sleepily blinking. "Smell what love?"

"Aunt Jane's perfume. It's so strong..." Taylor's voice trailed off a mix of confusion and a creeping dread settling in her stomach.

Liz sat up her senses suddenly on high alert. She inhaled deeply, eyes scanning the room. "I... don't smell anything unusual."

Taylor felt a prickle of disappointment. Was she imagining things? But the scent had been unmistakable. And the curtains... "Are you sure? I swear the curtains just moved, like someone was..."

"Taylor." Liz placed a gentle hand on her arm. "You've had a lot on your mind lately. Stress, the new place... maybe you're working yourself up too much."

A wave of uncertainty washed over Taylor. Liz was usually so perceptive so in tune with her. Was it just her imagination playing tricks amplified by the memory of her aunt in this very house?

As the morning wore on the incident faded to the back of her mind. Yet when dusk crept in bringing with it a touch of coolness and casting long shadows across the veranda the memory of that morning prickled at her senses once more. The unsettling feeling that they were not alone wouldn't leave her.

Liz's expression transformed, a shadow passing over her features. The carefree warmth of the afternoon seemed to evaporate replaced by a quiet intensity tinged with pain.

"Gulag..." she whispered her voice barely louder than the rustling of the palm trees above them "It was not... a place meant for dreaming. Or for love."

Taylor sat up taking Liz's hand. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to Liz. But if it helps..."

Liz squeezed her hand back a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "It helps... yes, to talk. But it is never easy." She took a deep breath and Taylor sensed the steel beneath the fragility, the strength forged in the crucible of her past.

"I was young..." Liz began her voice low and steady. "Foolish perhaps. They said I had the wrong ideas said my family was enemy of the state." She gave a short bitter laugh. "We were farmers Taylor. Barely surviving. But that did not matter."

She described the arrest, the brutal transport the endless expanse of the Siberian prison camp. Her words painted a picture of relentless cold gnawing hunger and the constant struggle for survival against both the elements and the brutality of the guards.

"We were less than animals" she said grimly. "Worked until we could not stand, fed scraps housed like cattle... And those who fought back or simply grew too weak..." her voice trailed off.

Taylor stroked her hair, a wave of love and fierce protectiveness washing over her. The Liz she knew, the strong woman who'd conquered so much, had been shaped in this crucible of horror. It was both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring.

"But even there, Taylor" Liz continued, turning to meet her gaze with a surprising softness "there was always a small ember inside me. A hope for... something different. The dream of warmth of kindness of a place where a person could simply be."

She looked lovingly down at the emerald ring on her finger. "When I met you in that gym clumsy and kind, I saw it. A flicker of that dream I had nearly forgotten. With you I built a new fire, one that burns brighter than any Gulag could ever extinguish."

Tears, silent and cathartic rolled down both their faces as Taylor drew Liz into a fierce embrace. They stayed like that for a long while drawing solace from each other's warmth, the whisper of the ocean a gentle lullaby.

By the time they finally released each other, a sliver of the afternoon sun peeked through the palms. Sharing Liz's past hadn't been easy but it felt like a turning point a layer of understanding had deepened between them. The island once just a paradise was now something more--a place to heal and grow, together.

As the last embers of the sunset painted the horizon Taylor's gaze fell upon the pool. It shimmered under the starry expanse an irresistible invitation to cool moonlit waters. An echo of their first morning on the island bubbled up in her chest -- a playful carefree joy.

A touch of mischief sparked in her eyes as she turned to Liz who was finishing her rum and cola. "One last dip to end the perfect day?" she asked, a seductive lilt in her voice.

Liz grinned, her initial hesitation melting away at the sight of Taylor's playful smile. The Gulag might have hardened her but these stolen moments of sheer indulgence were slowly stripping those layers revealing the lighthearted spirit beneath. "Always tempted by your plans, Taylor" she chuckled, setting down her glass.

Their movements were swift and easy a silent communication born from shared desires. Taylor swiftly untied her sundress, letting it puddle at her feet and revealing her sun-kissed body. With a joyous laugh, she dove headfirst into the pool, sending a shimmering spray of water into the moonlight.

Liz followed with a graceful arc her strong form slicing through the water. They met in the center, an unspoken challenge sparking in their eyes. Under the velvet sky, their bodies danced in a playful aquatic ballet. Fingers grazed tanned skin, laughter rippled through the air, and the worries of the day simply melted away.

As they floated side by side gazing up at the star-strewn sky Liz reached out and entwined her fingers with Taylor's. "This day..." she whispered her voice husky with emotion "It was perfect in every way. Thank you."

Taylor leaned her head gently on Liz's shoulder. "And it's just the beginning my love" she murmured, a thrill of anticipation running through her. "We're building something incredible here together."

The pool rippled gently beneath them, a witness to their love their laughter and the endless possibilities that shimmered in the starlight above. The island with its gentle breezes and whispered secrets, may have shadows hidden within, but they would face it all together -- just as they'd faced every challenge every triumph, since that first day at the gym.

Taylor paused near the pool's edge amusement swiftly fading into bewilderment. The familiar fragrance of Aunt Jane's perfume wafted around her strong and undeniable. It was as though her aunt's presence had been lingering on the breeze invisible yet unmistakable.

And then -- the splashing. Soft but distinct like someone idly kicking their feet at the water's edge. The hairs on the back of Taylor's neck prickled. She shot a glance toward the darker end of the pool where the shadows deepened.

"Listen" she urged Liz eyes wide with a strange mix of fear and fascination. "Can you hear that? And... don't you smell the perfume?"

Liz frowned her usual composure tinged with a flicker of alarm. She moved closer peering into the darkness. "I hear... splashing maybe? But the perfume..." She inhaled deeply. "Yes, I think... but it's faint."

Her words fueled Taylor's unease. The playful atmosphere of minutes before had vanished. The night, normally alive with the gentle hum of crickets and the rustle of palm fronds, felt unnervingly still.

"Aunt Jane?" Taylor called out hesitation and a hint of desperation lacing her voice. "Are you... are you here?"

Only silence echoed back. The splashing sound if anything, seemed to have intensified -- now accompanied by soft ripples as if someone had gotten up and was pacing back and forth along the pool's edge.

Liz nudged Taylor gently a protective instinct sparking within her. "Come on let's go inside. This... this is just getting strange."

Taylor nodded her gaze still fixed on the darkness. A part of her a part that dearly missed her aunt wished desperately for a flicker of recognition a sign that her aunt had somehow returned. But the other, more rational part whispered of unexplained events and an unsettling presence.

As they hurried towards the warmth and light of the house a chilling thought crossed Taylor's mind -- what if this wasn't a benevolent visit from her aunt? What if there was something else lurking in the shadows of their island paradise?

Taylor lay on her side gazing at the ceiling as she gently stroked Liz's hair. The faint glow of the nightlight cast a warm amber hue over their entwined forms. She could feel Liz's heartbeat thrumming against her own a steady rhythm that soothed her nerves. As she traced the outline of Liz's shoulder with her fingertip she couldn't help but notice the scars that marred her skin. Scars that told a story of survival of resilience in the face of unimaginable horrors.

"Liz" she whispered her voice barely audible even to her own ears "I want to know about those scars. I want to understand what you went through."

Liz closed her eyes tightly trying to push away the memories that threatened to consume her. "They are from my time in the Gulag" she finally managed to say her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "I was forced to fight...to survive."

Taylor's hand stilled on Liz's shoulder and she propped herself up on one elbow to look at her more closely. "What do you mean you had to fight?" she asked her voice gentle but insistent.

Liz took a deep breath trying to steady her racing heart. She turned her head slightly to meet Taylor's gaze. "In the Gulag there were no guards. No watchtowers. The prisoners were left to fend for themselves. Food was scarce and violence was commonplace. To survive one had to fight. And not just with one's fists."

She hesitated, her gaze drifting away before returning to Taylor's face. "I fought with anything I could find. Knives, sticks, even my bare hands. I fought for food for warmth for a place to sleep. And I fought to protect those weaker than myself. There were times when I..." Her voice trailed off her throat tightening.

Taylor reached out cupping Liz's face in her palm. "It's okay to tell me," she whispered. "I want to understand." Liz swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There were times when I had to kill," she confessed her voice barely audible. "I had to take a life to save my own. And the guilt..."

She trailed off shuddering as memories of those dark moments washed over her. Taylor's hand warm and comforting, stayed on her cheek, and she found herself leaning into the touch. "I wish I could take it all away," Taylor said, her voice quiet and steady. "I wish I could make it so you never had to go through that."

Liz sighed, shaking her head slightly. "It's not just the Gulag" she admitted. "I've fought before, in other places. I was never as desperate as I was there, but..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I was always a fighter. Even as a child, I was never content to just play with dolls. I wanted to run and climb and fight."

Taylor nodded, understanding. "And yet, you're here with me now," she said softly. "You survived you fought, and you found your way to me. I'm so grateful for that." She leaned in pressing their foreheads together. "And I'm here for you, no matter what. You don't have to fight alone anymore."

Liz closed her eyes, taking comfort in Taylor's words and presence. She wrapped her arms around the other woman feeling the warmth of her body and the strength of her embrace. "I know," she whispered. "And I am grateful. Thank you, Taylor. For everything."

Taylor gently squeezes Liz's hand, waking her softly. "Liz... do you feel that?" She whispers, her voice barely above a breath. A hint of amusement edges her words. Sleepiness begins to clear from Liz's eyes, replaced by a flicker of confusion.

"Feel what?" Liz murmurs, her voice thick with sleep. She shifts slightly in the bed. Her movement rustling the covers.

"Someone...something's touching my hair," Taylor chuckles quietly. Trying to keep a straight face but the corners of her lips twitch with a smile. "Don't you feel it too?"

Liz sits up a little more, blinking rapidly as she adjusts to the darkness. She runs her hands through her own hair. "Mmm...not really? But now I want to know what you're talking about." She says curiously, her voice gaining a playful lilt.

Taylor raises an eyebrow, letting a mock shiver travel down her spine. "Well, it was there! Something brushing against my hair. Like a cold draft, but...gentler." She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Maybe we have a ghost!"

Liz can't help but laugh softly. "A playful ghost then," she replies, leaning closer to Taylor. "Although if it's a ghost," she hums thoughtfully. "It must be a shy one. Perhaps it only makes itself known when people are almost asleep?"

Taylor lets out a playful yelp as another tickle ghosts her cheek. This time. Though, a familiar scent hits her nose -- a light.Tropical floral fragrance that instantly sparks a memory.

"Liz, wait!" she exclaims, suddenly sitting up. The playful mood vanishes. Replaced by a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Do you smell that?"

Liz sniffs the air, a quizzical look on her face. "Now that you mention it... I do. It smells kind of like..."

"Aunt Jane's perfume!" Taylor finishes. A wide grin spreading across her face. The realization dawns on her -- the playful ghost might not be a ghost at all.

"You think it's...?" Liz trails off. A playful glint in her eyes.

Taylor nods excitedly. "Aunt Jane just left me that estate in the Caribbean, remember? Maybe she couldn't resist coming to say goodbye... or hello, depending on how you look at it."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment. Then, a soft breeze blows through the window. Carrying the faint scent of plumeria flowers and salty air. The moonlight dances across the shadows. Making them seem to swirl and sway.

"Well," Liz says with a playful sigh, scooting closer to Taylor. "If it is Aunt Jane, she seems to be having a good time."

Taylor lets out a giggle. "Maybe a little too good of a time," she whispers, glancing around the room with a mix of anticipation and amusement. "Do you think she'll show herself?"

A lingering hint of perfume hung in the air before blending into the familiar smells of their bedroom. The playful energy that had filled the room vanished with it. Shadows stretching back into the stillness. Taylor and Liz looked at each other. Amusement and a hint of wonder in their eyes.

"Well." Liz finally said, a grin stretching across her face. "That was... definitely not what I expected."

Taylor nodded, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. Was it her aunt's spirit messing with them. One last playful farewell? Or was it their imagination playing tricks in this old house? A little shiver ran through her -- it was exciting. This sense of unsolved mystery. Like a bit of magic sewn into their new life.

"I don't mind it, actually." Taylor confessed, smiling. "Kind of adds a whole 'tropical-estate-with-a-dash-of-the-supernatural' vibe, wouldn't you say? Maybe we'll find more of Aunt Jane's secrets down in the Caribbean."

They got cozy under the covers again. The silence settling between them comfortably. The mystery of it all felt... exciting. Maybe the real adventure wasn't the house itself. But the stories hidden within it. The possibility of something just beyond their understanding, silly or serious.

Taylor and Liz smiled at each other before drifting off. They carried the echo of a playful ghost with them. And the feeling that their world had just gotten bigger and much more interesting. Their new inheritance had come with an unexpected dose of wonder. One they eagerly looked forward to exploring.