Page 8 of Ghosts From Christmas Past

“I’m going to close my eyes for a second. Can you keep talking?” she asked because having him close made her feel less afraid.

“Of course, I can. Okay, let’s see, what else? Oh, when you were in eighth grade, you discovered softball and you became invincible, actually studying every aspect of the game. You were a vicious pitcher with a killer left arm. No one could hit a ball when you were on your game. In fact, you played all through high school. Your coach urged you to continue playing in college.”

Her lips curled up at his soothing voice. She could listen to him all day.

“Then when you were a freshman, you dated this kid named Jimmy Torres. I hated that guy—”

???

No, no, no! Impossible. How could it be after so long? Charlie Swenson could not be awake after eight years.

He stared around the darkened world with glazed eyes. After so long, he’d finally begun to believe that time would forever rest in history. But it hadn’t stayed there, and he was worried.

Instead of the news being welcoming, it was a stark reminder of his past sins. He should have taken care of her long ago. That morning. He’d known she wasn’t dead when he fled the house, but the anger unleashed that day was frightening even to him.

He’d gone there to tell her how he felt. Instead, she’d told him a secret that sent him over the edge. She’d married another man. Expected him to be happy about it. But he wasn’t happy. He would never be happy about her marrying someone else.

The knife ended up in his hand, and he still had no idea how. The rest was now whispered about by those who still remembered. Had become a tale young people told one another around a fire. And he’d expected the truth to come out all these years. Was so certain each knock on the door would lead to his arrest. Expected to be arrested. But it hadn’t happened.

Until now.

Now, everything inside him warned it was only a matter of time before he was forced to pay for his crimes. So, there was only one thing left for him to do. He’d have to finish the job that he should have that Christmas.

Because if he didn’t, she would take him down, and he had too much to live for to let that happen.

He put the vehicle’s window down, despite the winter’s chill, and headed down the same road he had many times in the past. The familiar house came into view from the road. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he backed up and slowly eased down the drive he’d walked that day.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, its headlights shining across eight years of decaying history. The place had been empty since that time. Her husband had preserved it as a shrine to the ones lost that day. And to the woman who had fought her way back from certain death.

He came here to remember. And to wonder. What might have happened if he hadn’t picked up that knife? If she hadn’t told him about. . .? If she’d cared for him the way he did her?

???

“And then we kissed for the first time. . .” Dylan whispered under his breath, certain she hadn’t heard. She’d fallen asleep shortly after he’d brought up Jimmy Torres. “I knew then that you had my heart forever. You still do.”

As he stared at the miracle before him, his head urged him to leave—let her rest in peace, but his heart kept him seated. Mostly because he was so afraid he’d wake up and discover this was all just a dream.

Dylan watched her sleep. What would the future hold for her? Them. There were so many unknowns ahead. Even if she recovered her full memories, maybe too much time had passed for them. She might never return to the same person she was before, and he’d be just an ugly reminder of the life she’d once had. Though that thought was a knife to his heart, he’d do what was best for Charlie.

He rose and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Regardless of the future, he’d be at her side. And he’d find the person responsible if it were the last thing he did.

Dylan headed for the door when Dr. Montgomery came in and stopped short.

“She’s sleeping.” Dylan glanced back at the woman who was still his wife despite her lack of memory.

The doctor nodded and motioned him outside.

“She has a long road ahead of her,” Dr. Montgomery said, peering past Dylan into Charlie’s room with a frown on his face. “It won’t be easy.”

Through the years, Paul Montgomery and he had become good friends. Tragedy had a way of pulling people together like that. “No, it won’t be,” Dylan said. “How is she physically? She looks like she just woke up from a nap.” He pivoted to the sleeping woman. “Just the same as she did back then.”

“Better than I could have imagined given the circumstances. Charlie even stood and took a few steps before you arrived.”

Dylan grinned. “That is amazing. I’d say the years of physical therapy have paid off.”

Paul smiled, yet Dylan could tell there was something more on his mind. “Very true.” He hesitated. “I remember what happened that day as if it were yesterday. Barlow was my pastor. I knew the family well. We shared many a meal together.” He shook his head. “Charlie was a beautiful young woman with her whole future ahead of her. She didn’t deserve what happened.”

Dylan’s brows shot together. After eight years, why was he just now hearing about Paul’s connection to the family? “I didn’t realize you were so close.” He watched his friend and tried not to see him as a possible suspect. Paul Montgomery was as good a man as Dylan had ever met. It was just the surprise of her waking up. It had thrown him. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

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