The Chance at Willow Manor

This is the tale of a man in his 40's, who loses his wife. Then, he meets a ghost (which, depending on your point of view about ghosts, may or may not require you to suspend your reality checks). That leads, in its own strange way, to him meeting the woman of his future, who is also in her 40's. This is primarily a romance. It just comes about in a bit of a different way.

And, there is little actual sex, though it too, has a bit of a twist.

This is my entry for the Nude Day 2020 Contest, so please vote if you read the whole story. I really appreciate comments, as they confirm, or add perspective to, my awareness of what this audience appreciates, or dislikes. However, pedantic nit-picking comments that do not comment on the storyline will be deleted.

THE CHANCE AT WILLOW MANOR

"This is IT!" she said, as her voice rose in pitch, to a near squeal. That was her first comment as we pulled into the tree-lined drive, and the manor house came into view.

"You haven't even seen the inside, Jill. They said no one has lived here since the 70's. It might be a wreck!"

"Teddy, you can make it look so beautiful. Your architectural skills have made everything you have touched look spectacular...just, spectacular."

I chuckled in my mind, as she had, once again, used her favorite word, "spectacular." But, still in discouraging mode, I continued, "Jill, there are 20 acres here! Think of all the grounds maintenance that'll be required."

"But, Teddy! Just think what it'd be like to sit on that upper porch in the morning sun. This is where I want to be...when..."

"Jill, the renovations could take years...and you don't..."

"No, I don't, Teddy. You know, as well as I, that they told us one, maybe two. But when my time comes, you can put me under that weeping willow, and I can look back at this grand house, and this porch."

I stopped the car, and then went around and opened her door.

"Please don't talk about that," I pleaded, "And I want to spend the time with you, not managing a major remodeling project."

"You'll still have plenty of time for me, and you'll be around a lot. You know it won't happen to me suddenly, so you'll have plenty of warning. Now please, put the key they gave us in that lock and let me see the inside!"

I sighed, knowing it would probably take a gaping hole in the roof for her to drop her enthusiasm back to a level that I could have any hope of containing. I opened the door.

"Oh! There it is, Teddy! The double curving staircase, the chandelier, the vintage skylight...this is why I said we had to move to the south. Nothing in Michigan was this spectacular!"

The manor wasn't really as bad as my worst fears...just only as bad as my lesser fears. "It will take a month just to get this place dusted!" I sighed. I knew I was reaching. I could see all the work and upheaval ahead. I envisioned half-peeled wall paper, scaffolds and drop cloths everywhere, walls torn open for new wiring...nothing looking completed. Jill may not live long enough to see even a single room finished. And there I would be in the middle of this upheaval, holding her hand as all that charming personality, that I loved so much and had married her for, just seeped up into the ether and out of my life.

"Teddy, Please! This is everything I dreamed of. Just do your best! I will never complain, nor blame you for anything that's not finished. I just want to see its progress. Let me imagine how beautiful it will be when you're done!"

"When we're done," I corrected.

"Maybe," she said, as her eyes wandered into the corners of the two-story ceiling.

"House: 1, My Future: 0." I grimaced to myself.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

The house took 2½ years, and it was magnificent. I had retained much of it retained classic elements, while utilizing many modern details. Such as, indirect LED lighting, which added a flair that something built in the 1840's could never have hoped for. Jill got to see her kitchen nearly completed, the master bedroom and bath were far enough along to recognize their potential, the library was complete except for the shelving, and her grand entrance room only needed its final paint. Now, I prayed that she liked the view from under that weeping willow, where she had been for the last year.

It was such beautiful home. It was large, grand, sparkling, and...empty. Some evenings, I couldn't turn the TV up loud enough to drown out the emptiness of not having Jill in my life. Moments came, and were quickly dismissed, where I thought I should sell this place, and escape its memories. Yet I knew, in my heart, that I was committed to keeping Jill's dream.

And it was Jill's grace that my mind replayed, too often, from the last time we had made love. It was the last time she had the strength to project her love of me through sex, as she gently rocked, forcing me deep inside her. As she began calming from the last orgasm I ever knew her to have, she whispered, "Promise me one thing, Teddy."

"Anything, Jill...anything," I whispered back.

She settled on top of me, and spoke softly into my ear, "Ted, you're a good man...but you're a great one when you're in love. Don't let your greatness end with me. Promise me you won't let my memory get in the way of you loving again?!"

As I sniffled against her ear, I could only form a "But..." before further words failed me.

"No 'Buts' at all, Theodore Taegen!" she said, squeezing her cheek tight to me, "I'm not going to spend the rest of your life watching you be sad, or lonely, or unhappy, or unloved...or any other 'Un...'!"

"I will try," I said, as my tears ran onto her cheek.

"Not 'will try'," Jill commanded, "Just 'will'!"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

The last thing to get finished was my office. At 48 years old, I knew I had plenty of ideas left in me, and now I had my first proposals to complete, since moving to the South. I was hoping this home would be an advertisement for my talents.

Moving out the last pieces of construction equipment, I put them in the storage area, which I had included in the newly built garage, behind the house. As I closed the doors, I looked farther back on the property at the old, dilapidated servant/slave quarters. As I had been continually busy with the manor house for so long, I'd never done more than walk around those quarters.

I pondered what I should do with them. There were eight buildings originally, one larger than the rest. It, and three others, were still standing, though those three looked too feeble to be safe to enter. Should I try to preserve all of them, both for their character and history? Or, should I tear them down for safety and to reduce my insurance costs?

I wandered out to the larger building to start my examination. I gingerly pulled on the door, and the hinges immediately broke loose. I lifted the door and moved it aside. Vertical blades of light knifed through the gaps in the simple plank walls, giving enough light for my eyes to see an old table tilted onto one corner from a broken leg. Another pile of finished wood shapes seemed to indicate the passing of a chair.

Then, there was a moderate creak and groan from the wood somewhere in here, and I hurriedly scanned the room for any dangers of collapse. Seeing no problems, not even dust floating in those slices of sunlight, I took a couple more steps inside. The creaks and groans were louder this time, and I looked around my feet for indications of loose or weakened boards.

When I looked back up, I froze. Her eyes shown like the headlights of a car in the night, as her skin was so dark. Despite my shock, my mind registered the beauty of her form, as ribbons of light played over her. And there was a lot to see, as she had no clothes. I could not see her face too clearly, for it was burrowed in the shadows, but those eyes glowed with fear.

"Who are you?" I asked, in the most reassuring tone my shocked brain could compose.

"Please, Suh! Don't hurt me!" lips below those eyes pleaded, over a backdrop of white teeth.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, "But I need to know who you are and why you are on my land? And without clothes?"

"Suh," she started, faltering, "My name is Emmi-Anne...and I live here. But, I don't what has happened!"

"You live here?" I gently asked, as my mind scurried about, searching for possible scenarios in which her presence would make any sense.

"Yes, suh!" she announced, with some authority, "but my home is so broken and I don't know how that happened. And my clothes are just gone, too, suh! Please, suh, do not think me a harlot. I am shamed to have you see me in this way!"

"It's not safe in here," I proclaimed, "Let's get you out of here!"

"You own this land?" she asked, with obvious concern.

"Yes, I do. I bought it over two years ago. Now let's get you out of this place before it falls around our ears," I said, as I extended my hand to assist her.

"If you own Willow Manor, then you own me, too, suh," she said, matter-of-factly, "So, I do whatevers you please."

My mind reeled that she thought I could "own" her, but I kept my hand out and wiggled my fingers for her to reach for it.

"You want me to touch you, suh?" she exclaimed, "You, honestly, want my slave skin against my master's?"

"YES!" I barked, a bit too sharply, while disliking being called "master."

Emmi-Anne reached for my hand, and her fingers passed through mine. I don't mean her fingers slipped through my fingers, I mean the substance of her hand just passed right through my flesh! It left the faintest sense of an energy, rather like a glow, residing in my hand. I gasped, and stepped back.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost, as she pulled her hand quickly back, and the blazing white eyes became as round as they could go. "Lordy! Are you come kind of spirit!?" she nearly yelled.

We both paused, stupefied, as our eyes hunted in the other's for the truth of what had just happened. Finally, I cautiously said, "I am no spirit. I'm as real as you are!"

"How is such a thing possible!?" Emmi-Anne exclaimed, as she examined her own hands.

Taking a deep breath, to try to slow the adrenaline that raced through me, I offered my hand and said, "Let's try it again. And,'No', no harm will come to you if you touch me. I don't have any concerns about contact with a black woman...or person."

Her hand eased towards mine, in hesitating steps. She finally placed her fingers on my palm...and they disappeared into my skin. "Lordy, lordy! This must be evil spirits!"

I was surprised that she didn't pull back. Instead she brought her other hand forward and tried to grasp my wrist. He fingers curled into themselves, with none of me in her grasp.

She gasped, "It is my hand that hides inside yours! Your skin does not disappear! Am I the spirit?!"

My mind desperately tried to make some sense of all this! For want of a better idea, and from some strange place in my thoughts, I asked, "Emmi-Anne, what year is this?"

"Well, 1852 of course, suh," she immediately responded, but then seemed to reconsider her answer, "Maybe 1854, if you have owned the manor for two years."

"Oh my!" I exclaimed, and stumbled back, bumping into the door frame. I coughed to clear my throat and thoughts. Then I said, quietly, "Emmi-Anne, why don't you step outside with me?"

"Yes...suh," she responded, caution filling out her tones. As she took her first steps towards me, from across the room, more light crossed over her. I caught glimpses of the beautiful features of her face, and her sleek, taught body. Her skin had a faint luminescence, and even iridescence, as she moved through light and shadow.

I stepped back out of the door to make room for her exit, and then she stepped into the light. Her arm crossed her chest and the other arm had its hand over her pubic hair, in modesty. "Good lord!" she exclaimed, as her eyes hurriedly circulated among the remodeled house, the new garage, my Cadillac Escalade XL, and then behind her at the ramshackle remains of the slave quarters.

Her mouth fell open for a long time, before she finally said, "You have done many fine things with the manor in two years, suh! And that is a beautiful, but strange carriage!"

"Emmi-Anne" I said, instinctively stepping behind her and trying to grasp her shoulders to brace her...only to have my hands fall through her body with gentle waves of energy flowing around my hands. I sucked in a breath, both to prepare myself for what I would tell her, and to prepare for her reaction. "That 'carriage' that you are seeing is something I bought new, just this year."

"Very fine, suh," she nodded, still in awe of the new surroundings.

"That carriage," I continued, "was constructed in the year 2018... two thousand and eighteen. This is the year 2018! Do you understand? That is 166 years after the year 1852!"

Emmi-Anne's arms dropped, her modesty lost in the complexity of what she had just heard. Those arms searched, blindly, for purchase on the old horse trough that was still in front of her 'home'. "One HUNDRED...and Sixty-Six...YEARS!?" she exhaled, in disbelief.

"Yes," I confirmed, and I waited for the depth of her astonishment to subside. I couldn't help but notice the exquisite beauty of her body. Her flawless skin was so dark that you could have thought it some shade of black, were it not for the contrast of her black hair and areolas, demonstrating what blacker really was. I thought she was the darkest black-brown you could ever imagine, as she sat on the edge of that horse trough with her elbows on her knees, and her head shaking side-to-side in her hands. Her decent-sized and nicely rounded breasts only marginally drooped, and her hips were trim.

"So, I am..." she paused, struggling with the incongruity, "...186 years old!? I cannot be alive, then! I thought I went unconscious when master choked me, in '52. But, I must have died! Now, I am a spook!" Her eyes came up, searching my eyes for more answers.

All I felt I could offer was sympathy, as I fought to comprehend the reality of all this. This felt nothing like a dream...there would be no awaking to find that it was only sleep-induced thoughts that had chewed on the edges of reason. As I watched her lost face, I could also see the faint iridescence residing on her skin, which played out like tiny rainbows, twisting her skin color to innumerable rich hues.

"Come on, Emmi-Anne. Let's get you inside, and get you some clothes to wear. Plus, whatever else may help," I offered.

As we both walked, her with uneven, wandering steps, she mumbled, "All gone! Mum and Dadda! Sister Carry-Sue, gone. Everyone, gone!"

"I'm afraid so," I quietly answered.

She suddenly stopped, and turned to look at me, "Why am I here, Master, suh!!? Is it because Master - Old Master - murdered me when I denied wanting his manhood insides me!?"

"I, honestly, don't know. I don't understand what has happened to either of us. But, I assure you that you are safe here with me, and no one...living anyway...will force you to...fornicate."

"Thank you, Master, suh. Your kindness does me great comfort."

I let her in through the back door, into the mudroom and then the kitchen.

"This duh kitchen?" she said, eyes wide, wanting to find anything familiar.

"Yes," I answered, "I'm sure you will have many such questions. But, let me get you a robe to cover yourself. Then you can sit and rest your mind. Come on, the rest of the house should look quite different from when you last saw it."

"I was learning to cook," Emmi-Anne stated, "but, I was never allowed in the rest of the house, suh!"

"Then come...see it now. You can go anywhere you like...even without me." I informed her.

Still in a seeming daze, she looked around, then whistled, "This so fine! So, very, very fine! Like nothin' I ever saw!"

I led her to the family room, with the big, comfy leather sofa, and had her sit, while I went and got my wife's old bathrobe. I held the bathrobe open for her, and she looked puzzled. Realizing my mistake, I said, "Turn around, and put your arms into the sleeves. I am holding it to make it easier for you."

"A right, nice gentleman you are, Master, suh. Thank yuh," she said, with a more confident and kind tone. I could feel the tug of her body on Jill's slightly small-for-her robe as she slid in.

"Please sit," I requested, "We have things to discuss."

"I am at your mercy, Master. It is with the most gratitude that I serve you," she said, slightly bowing her head.

I sighed, heavily, as I knew the information to follow would further rock her world, nearly as much as finding out that she was dead, "Some very important things have changed since 1852. The most important, is that slavery was outlawed 13 years after you died. Therefore, I am not your master...no one is...and I, nor anyone else, has any ownership of you...no one except Emmi-Anne."

Her face was a blank for a while. Then, a small smile once again revealed those white teeth. "I am free?" she whispered.

"Well," I said, perplexed, "I don't think that the law applies to someone who is dead. But, as I have never known of a real ghost, I can only say that you're probably as free as you want to be...or can be, given whatever limitations being a ghost puts on you. You are certainly free in my home."

"Thank yuh, Suh!" she exclaimed.

"AND," I emphasized, "Please stop calling me 'SIR', like that! My name is Theodore Taegen, and people call me 'Ted', and you can, too."

"Yes, Ted...suh!" escaped her lips, and she grinned at the error. That was the first time I had seen something approaching happiness show in her eyes. It was lovely. She added, "My family call me 'Em' or 'Emmie'. I would be proud if you would call me that...SIR." She had clearly enunciated that last word, and laughed at my frowning face.

"A Joke! How wonderful." "That's the last time you call me 'sir', right?!" I laughed.

"I will try, s....TED! But, I have been doing it for over 180 years!"

I was surprised she was handling her situation with any humor and fairly calmly, as well. "Do you know if you need to eat, drink, sleep, or go to the bathroom?"

"Go to the bathroom?" she repeated.

"Where the toilets are located," I informed.

"Never used one of those. But, all of those things you asked...just don't know. I only remember old master choking me, and then you walking into my home, or your home...or whatever you call that place you found me in. No knowing what being dead is like. I does have lots of questions!"

"I don't think I have many answers about being dead, or about being a ghost. Ghosts have been rumors for many years, with no scientific answers."

"Then, I guess we learn together...if you willin' to let me stay?" she asked, with her eyes dropping.

"Of course you can stay!" I blurted, "Hell, this was your home a long time before it was mine."

"I never owned it," she chuckled, "but I appreciates your meanin'!"

"Let me show you to your room," I said, standing, and gesturing in the direction of the back staircase.

She stood, but then looked at my face, in confusion, "You mean I have a room...just for me? No one else?"

"That's right," I smiled. "Just for you. Top of the stairs, on the left. And it has a private bathroom."

"Ain't this wonderful!" she chirped, to herself, as she went ahead of me.

I showed her the guest room, which was next to my bedroom. "Bless me!" she exclaimed, as she sat on the bed.

"Tomorrow," I said, "We'll have to get you some clothes. I think you are too tall to fit into any of my wife's clothes."

"Your wife! Where is she...Ted?" a startled Emmi asked.

"She passed, a year ago, Em," I sighed, slowly, "this house was her dream. She is buried under the willow."

"I'm so sorry, s...! You must have loved her very much to give her this fine home," she said, in a polite softness.