but all eternity to love the dead
— Sophocles
When I accepted a position at 19th cetury Ruskin House I was unaware the founder, Anthony Ashley Cooper, was a ghost who could appear to me.
And even more eerie, his secretary, with whom I was in love, was also a spirit who was physically immortal as long as she remained within the boundaries of our small village, but if she strayed outside them she’d age and eventually die.
But now our ghostly overseer has personally requested that we venture beyond the boundaries of thhe town in order to preserve the gravesite of a deceased loved one scheduled to be razed for a construction project.
I didn’t know how I could ask Jeannie to undertake such a mission, but I promised Anthony and I dutifully obeyed.
“Of course I’ll go with you, Grant,” she reassured me. “What’s the worst that can happen? I may begin to fade or disappear, but I can simply retrace my steps and materialize again.”
I wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Jeannie—you told me every time you dematerialized, your body ages. Who knows how much—it could be a month or a year.”
“I told you, Love—I don’t care, as long as I’m with you. I don’t want to be in limbo living forever, but living without you. I want to age and die with you—can’t you understand that?”
I nodded. “I understand it, but I still don’t deserve it—at least, I feel I’m not worthy of such devotion. You giving up eternity for me.”
“But you’re giving up your life for me. That’s what love is—losing yourself in others’ lives.”
I was beginning to see how both Anthony and Jeannie could teach me the real meaning of life.
So, the next day we set off to meet with Ross Sterling, the project manager, in order to try to persuade him not to disturb the remains of the dead.
We were driving in my SUV when Jeannie suddenly put out an arm to stop me. “Wait, Grant—pull over for a moment.”
We were on a narrow country road heading toward the highway. I pulled over onto the soft shoulder and sent clouds of dust high into the air.
“Are you okay—are you starting to dematerialize?”
“I’m fine,” she assured me, “but I wanted to tell you not to take the highway—it wasn’t built when I was alive.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Take Dundas Street—I often went that way to my aunt’s house in Oakville. I’m beginning to think I can only go places where I’ve already been.”
I smiled. “Good thinking, Love—forget the highway and take the low way.”
“Don’t you mean slow way?” she said coyly.
“This could turn into a very long trip,” I teased.
“Forget it chum—we’ve got a job to do for Anthony—but, we could stop at a roadside inn on the way back.” She stared at me with huge dark eyes and I felt my stomach flip.
A night spent with a goddess and I might never return to earth.
Ross Sterling was a driven man—he reminded me of a bulldog—a vicious one. His grey hair was close-cropped into a brush cut, and his huge square jaw, steely grey eyes and thick neck made him intimidating and cold.
We were sitting in his office on Dundas Street overlooking a ravine filled with autumn trees of various colours—it was a spectacular view and I told him so.
“You know, I hardly ever notice it—so damn busy I scarcely have time to glance out the window, other than to check the sky for rain or any other foul weather that might hold up construction.”
“No time to stop and stare?” Jeannie said, “How sad.”
“Oh, I make time to stop and stare at a beautiful woman,” he snickered, and wet his lips as he sized up Jeannie.
I felt my fingers ball into a fist and anger rise inside me.
Jeannie sensed my anger and intervened. “I have a feeling nothing would persuade you to build on an alternative lot—even if we offered a tract of land gratis.”
“Maybe if you sweetened the offer, Honey—I might consider it.”
I was halfway out of my chair when a strong force pinned me back down. Sterling was no longer leering—in fact, he was no longer there!
Jeannie turned to me and said sweetly, “Relax Grant—if you don’t fight it, the force will dissipate.”
I took a few deep breaths, flexed my fingers and was able to move freely again.
“How did you do that—and what did you do with Sterling?”
She brushed back a wisp of blonde hair and gently laughed. “To answer your first question, I created an aura of peace about us. I anticipated Sterling’s response—he’s a very angry man.”
“So, I was not only protected from being hurt, I was prevented from hurting others?”
“Exactly. Why would you want to respond in hate if you’re surrounded by love?”
I shook my head slowly, marvelling at a side of Jeannie I hadn’t seen before. “So what about Sterling—did you send him to hell?”
“People who want to send others to hell are violent souls. I would never wish that on anybody. I sent Mr. Sterling back in time to meet the very people he wants to harm by disturbing their peace.”
“You can do that?”
“I’m doing it every day, Grant. What’s a ghost but someone out of place in time?”
I was mystified. “What should we do?”
“Why don’t you take me to lunch at The Old Mill—I like it there—or rather, I used to like it back in my past.”
“Fine, Love, I’ll take you to lunch—but what about Sterling?”
“Oh, he’ll be here when we get back—and probably more amenable to listening to reason.”
We spent a lovely few hours eating in the historic restaurant and wandering through the ruins of the crumbling mill.
“Some people have no regard for the past,” Jeannie whispered as she stared up at the ruined walls of the mill.
“That’s important to you, isn’t it?”
“It is. It’s our heritage—our collective memory. Did you know the church where Catherine Lyons perished was rebuilt and burnt down again? Then, it was rebuilt and destroyed in a cyclone in 1923 and then rebuilt again. But it finally fell into neglect and vandals burned it down yet once again—I remembered reading about that in the paper. This time, it was never rebuilt and a part of our heritage was lost forever.”
I felt an incredible sadness.
“You see, Grant—it’s not so much that people and things perish—that’s life. The tragedy is when they’re forgotten.”
When we returned later that afternoon to Sterling’s office we encountered a changed man. He had no recollection of our previous visit.
“It’s a damnable weird thing,” he mused. “I must have fallen asleep at my desk and had this dream about that cemetery property. I dreamt those pioneer people endured so much hardship. I was standing with them out in the rain at night in a torch light service. Their church had burned down but they were determined to build it again.”
I watched as his voice broke. He bit his lip and stared off into the ravine as if he were seeing the scene all over again—and perhaps he was.
“I can’t disturb the remains of those poor folk—in fact, I’m going to put up a bronze plaque on that site to keep their memory alive.”
We offered him the free tract of land, but he demurred.
“It just wouldn’t be right—protecting that cemetery is the least I can do.”
We left him staring off into the ravine. He finally noticed the trees.
On the way home Jeannie reached out and grabbed my arm again. “Wait, Grant—pull over for a moment.”
I did as she instructed. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m feeling a little tired,” she whispered.
“Should we find a place to rest and get a bite to eat?”
“That’s a good idea,” she smiled, “How about there?”
She pointed to a Comfort Inn and there was nothing ghostly about that.
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