Page 5 of Christmas Spirits

The farther I got from the old Victorian house, the better I felt. No more chills and no more sinking feeling in my stomach, confirming that the worst of it was behind me.

Good thing, too, because after all the stress of the day followed by the night’s excitement, I was more than ready for my bed.

* * *

“Yes,of course, Mr. Wallace. We can have all that delivered to you for five. Okay. Sounds good. Thank you. Yes. We’ll see you then. Merry Christmas to you, too. Goodbye.”

I hung up the shop’s phone and scribbled down “5 p.m. delivery” on the new order sheet. Then, I clipped it on the hanging line I had designated for catering by the walk-in cooler with the five others I had taken this morning.

I’d woken up to a workday as hectic as the night before. No more members of G. O. A. T. involved this time, thank God, but my phone was ringing off the hook with incoming orders for Christmas Day. I was booking up fast, and if this kept up, I’d have to start refusing deliveries and only accepting pickups.

Since I was determined to spend Zach’s first Christmas morning together with presents, holiday pjs, and whatever other cheesy traditions I could start this year, I was only working a half-day, a late day. Any deliveries had to be done after three in the afternoon, which, to my surprise, hadn’t deterred any customers. They claimed they needed their sweets for after dinner.

My sudden popularity wasn’t expected, but it was sure exciting. The only explanation I could think of was Mrs. Harris. Either her guests had really enjoyed my desserts and wanted to order for their own holiday parties, or Mrs. Harris had spread the word aboutOh! Kay’snew catering adventure.

I glanced over at the portable crib where Zack was drinking his bottle and making his normal happy grunts with every gulp. A nap would follow his feeding, and during that time, I could refill the display cases in the front and check my stock in the back, make sure I had enough ingredients to fulfill these orders.

I could almost bet I needed butter. A baker could never have too much butter.

A chill rocketed through me, and my heart seized, knowing exactly what that meant. I spun around, searching every inch of the kitchen for the intruding spirit. Nothing. Not a soul. Whoever it was, they must have been hiding, which was common. Most didn’t even know people like me—a Medium—even existed. Most didn’t know how to approach me.

At first, I was relieved to see no ghostly figures hovering around my mixing equipment or decorating tools, but then I realized that probably meant whoever it was would probably startle me later when I least expected it.

Either intentionally or unintentionally, as Jade typically did whenever she stopped in for a visit.

However, for some reason, I didn’t get the signaling chill whenever she popped in. Probably because she wasn’t a regular spirit; she was an archangel, something we had come to know recently. So, that could be why she’d gotten away with scaring me half to death whenever stopping in.

At least, with this lingering spirit, I knew they were here. It was just the “when” they were going to reveal themselves that was frustrating. The unknown factor.

Might as well help them come out so they could state their business, and then I could explain that I was too busy to find some lost loved one and pass on a message. Hopefully, they were the reasonable kind that would understand and leave me alone. But those instances were few and far in between.

“Hello?” I said, making sure to keep my tone low. Zach was just finishing up his bottle, his eyelids closing. Carefully, I walked around the kitchen, scanning every corner or potential hiding place for that familiar pulsing glow and transparency all spirits shared. It was their staple. So far, I found nothing. “I know you’re in here. You don’t need to be frightened by me. I’m sure I look a bit confusing to you, too…”

Okay, I was rambling now, but I had never tried to coax a spirit out before. It was always about waiting for them to come to me.

With so many things on my plate as it was, I’d rather just get it over with. Call it a day in the Medium department.

Striding around the center island and dough raising racks, another shiver snaked up my spine. I whipped around but, again, saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I sighed. So much for trying to speed this up. Looked like I was on the spirit’s time. As usual.

How did my grandmother deal with this so easily? Growing up, she never seemed bothered by her gift. I barely ever saw her even communicating with spirits. It was something she did in private. I had no idea how she was able to keep them away until she deemed it was their time. And unfortunately, she died before she could share that secret with me.

While I waited for this shy soul to come out, I might as well get started on my to-do list.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I took one step forward, suddenly glancing up, and was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight before me. There, right above Zach’s crib, was floating wisps of black smoke. Or maybe not smoke. I wasn’t quite sure what it was. The way the ends stretched out, slightly transparent, but floating in slow motion, as if they were being manipulated by a breeze, was majestic and slightly unsettling to look at. It was densely black at the center, reminding me of bunched up tulle or another kind of fabric drifting in moving water.

It was…entrancing. I’d never seen anything like it before.

I stared at the thing for a while, wondering what it really could be. The goosebumps covering my arms told me this was, in fact, a spirit, but it certainly wasn’t like any other spirit I’d ever seen. And I’d seen my fair share over the years.

There was no human shape to it; no recognizable features at all. Just a black, smoke-like handkerchief in the wind.

Despite its almost serene appearance and nonaggressive floating, uneasiness skated through me. I didn’t like how close it was to Zach—friendly spirit or not. I didn’t trust many living people with my baby as it was. I wasn’t about to trust something nonliving like that.

I shifted two steps to the left, hoping the spirit would follow my movements, but it remained in place, still over Zach.

My anxiety spiked. Maybe I needed to try speaking to it again. It had worked the first time—I think.

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