Page 16 of Baking With A Ghost

My heart pounds so hard I think my ribs are cracking. I didn't realize I was wound up so tight over this, but I need to know what happened to Simon.

Mike spins his teacup on the plate as he stares at me. "He needs someone who he can be open with. Be direct with his feelings about certain things, and not hide." He stares out the window before returning his gaze to me. "He needs a man. One who may understand what he likes..."

For a moment I stare at Mike, not fully comprehending the meaning behind the words. But then it all hits me like a wayward snowball to the face.

"Is he… is Simon gay?"

Mike leans back again, rummaging through his bag and removes a folder he places on the table.

"It took me a while to get the information out of him. He wasn't sure if he could trust me at first. Let me show you."

He pulls out old newspaper clippings, photos of the mill house and I gasp when I see a photo of the young man from my dream.

"This is him isn't it?"

Mike nods yes and my throat closes. "This was the guy in my dream."

I pull the copy of the old black and white photo closer. He wasn't black and white in my dream, he was full of vivid colour and there's no mistake, it's the same guy. That mop of hair and angelic face are laser etched in my brain. Dropping the paper like a hot coal, I gulp in a breath.

"I thought it was only bad spirits or whatever that came to you in dreams. Like when people are possessed or something. Why was he in my dream?"

"Not all spirits are the same, and from what Simon has told me and from the way he died, I believe he's searching for someone to accept him and love him as he is. He's craving that because he never got a chance. Something about you speaks to that, so he took a chance and appeared in your dream."

"This is all so bizarre. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around a ghost, let alone a ghost who wants to be loved. This is a lot to come to terms with."

Mike nods in agreement. "It's a lot to process, I know. Do you want to take some time to digest all this and we can meet again?"

"I don't know. I… how did he die anyway?"

He slides the newspaper article towards me with a nod. It's short and to the point, low on details. He died when he slipped and fell in the river trying to move a stone that was affecting water flow to the mill. From my research this morning, it appears to have happened several years before the family left.

"He slipped and fell? Seems to be a common hazard of the job."

Mike shakes his head. "He did slip and fall, but it wasn't because of trying to move a rock, John." He removes an old piece of paper with handwriting so shaky it's hard to read. It's a note from Simon to his parents.

My eyes strain to read the writing until it finally comes together.

"Oh my god." I flash my eyes to Mike. "He was going to run away with his boyfriend?"

I can feel my eyes prick with tears. The 1920's was not a time you could be out and proud. Not without consequences at least, even in an area as liberal as here. He was refusing an arranged marriage to a local girl because he was in love with another man. He must have been so heartbroken.

"What happened?"

Mike's face falls as he relays the grim results.

"His dad found the note before he got off the property and stopped him. There was an altercation and he fell. He did die of a head injury, but only because he was trying to get away. He was in love and he wanted to be loved, but he never got to because he died."

What a fucked up place this world is. His own father.

Now Simon thinks I'm the answer to his… what? His eternal life? A love he never had?

"You know what Mike, I do think I need time to think about this before I learn anything else."

"It's a lot, I understand."

I push out of the chair, dazed and unsure of what to do next except go home.

"I'll be in touch, thanks. It's… ya, thanks."

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