Page 15 of Baking With A Ghost

"Naturally I freaked out and wondered how my fake friend could make the papers, but then I showed him and he admitted it was him. He told me how he died and didn't know what to do and that I was his only friend. But here's the really freaky part."

He pauses to make sure I'm listening and I'm hanging on every damn word, no way I wasn't going to listen. "I started reading about conjuring spirits and ouija, witchcraft and paganism, anything about spirits and other worlds I could get my hands on. I stumbled upon a local man who claimed he talked to ghosts all the time and he told me I had a gift. Spirits would seek me out for help for the rest of my life. I could accept it and help them or go mad trying to ignore them."

He lifted a shoulder, carefree, and popped a piece of muffin in his mouth. "I wasn't keen on driving myself mad so I accepted it."

"How many ghosts have contacted you?"

"About fifty now. I'm starting to lose track."

My jaw drops. "You've talked to fifty ghosts? What do you do for them? How do you help?"

"Usually I help them find closure to their earthly life. Sometimes it's to deliver a message to a loved one. Other times it’s to tell police where to find bodies and sometimes it's just to help them move on to the afterlife because they're afraid. They're just people without bodies trapped in strange places. It's like a tourist who gets lost in a big city and they have to ask for directions." He points his thumbs at his chest with a grin, "I'm the guy who gives directions."

I huff a breath. "This is so fucked up."

"But you're here. To learn about Simon."

Hearing Mike say Simon's name catches my attention. A wave of protectiveness washes over me. Simon is my ghost, not his. Or is he?

"How do you know about Simon?"

"Haven't you been listening? He found me and asked for help."

"Well, how did he find you? He hasn't asked me for help."

And why does that make me sound like a petulant child?

He grins again. "So he's contacted you, then?"

"Uh, ya. I'm pretty sure anyway. The first time I thought it was a dream… " A too hot to be true dream, but there's no mistake, Simon is real. He's been here and he's contacting me. But what does he need Mike for? If he communicates with me, can't I help?

"But have you seen him?"

"No sheets have come billowing at me, no. Unless you count a dream, but I don't know what he looks like to confirm that."

His eyebrows raise to his hairline. "You saw him in a dream? That's highly unusual."

"Well it was, like, an erotic dream. And, uh, maybe it wasn't him, but it was very… satisfying." I cover my face with my hands with a groan. "Jesus, I just told you about an erotic dream that might not be ghost related."

He chews on his lip, biting the laughter back. "There's been other signs though, right?"

"Several now. All good things though. They just freaked me out and I remembered your letter and figured it was time to figure this out."

He leans forward over the table and I do the same.

"Here's the thing, they can't usually show you what they look like. That's something I can see, but never anyone else. If he's been in your dream…. he really wants to talk to you."

"Well, there wasn't a lot of talking, if you know what I'm saying." That's because his mouth was busy doing something else.

"Okay, we can work with this."

"But how did you know to come to me?"

He sighs a heavy sigh, as he considers his words. "I'm not from here. I was driving through and he popped into my head. It's like a weird Facebook messenger type thing. Ping, he needs help. He also needed someone who could understand what happened to him. Once I knew his story, I promised I'd keep coming back and stay in touch until he found someone he was happy with."

Again, my mind is overloaded with all this information.

"Someone he's happy with? I don't understand. What happened to him? Jesus, Mike, tell me about this damn ghost I'm apparently living with!"

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