A Timely Concerto Read Online Free PDF Page B

the rich blue of a Willow Ware platter and he looked back at her with what seemed to be intelligence and life. Besides, if he was flesh and not spirit, he was attractive in a rugged, Western hero sort of way. Too many thoughts whirled through her brain like a sudden windstorm and she sat down on a brocade-covered chair.
    “You can’t be a ghost.” Her voice sounded weak and squeaky. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
    “I assure you that I am indeed a ghost.” His lips curled into a wry grin as he spoke as if even he found the idea ludicrous. “Or, if not a ghost per se, then at least I’m quite dead.”
    “That’s nonsense.”
    Howard shook his head.” I wish it was and that I could just walk out through the door. I can’t do that and as much as I love Seven Oaks, more than a hundred years wandering through the rooms and frightening the occasional child ceased to be fun some time ago. I was a farmer and I miss the outdoors. I would almost sell my soul to feel sunshine beating down on my back or to work the dirt with my hands again.”
    He made the impossible seem within reach with his calm words and steady gaze. His diction and the words he used were as out of date as his suit. If he was an actor, then he was skilled at his craft but somehow, no matter how unlikely it was, he came across as genuine.
    “I don’t understand how that could be possible,” Lillian said, choking on the words that opened her mental door a crack to paranormal possibilities. “Look, I don’t know what to say or think but I’m Lillian Dorsey, Charles David’s granddaughter. He left me Seven Oaks.”
    “I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Dorsey.” Howard stood and bowed from the waist with grace. “Are you Sylvia’s child or Monica’s?”
    “Please call me Lillian. Sylvia is my mother.” This was not possible; she was not making polite conversation with a ghost, the ghost of her mother’s stories. “She told me about the ghost, warned me about you. Whatever you did, you scared her.”
    He settled back onto the piano stool. Legs crossed, he sighed. “I never intended to scare your mother or anyone else. I could not get my own mother to believe I was here and when she would catch a glimpse of me, she would weep. That was very difficult for me.”
    Dear God, she wanted to believe him. He sounded so sincere, his emotions did not seem feigned, but what he said could not be possible. With her brain on overload, she covered her face with both hands.
    “Please don’t tell me any more now.” Her voice wavered and she wanted to cry, just flat out bawl. “I need time to think about this. I don’t understand it, not any of it and I don’t believe it’s possible but you’re here.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Howard?”
    “Yes, Lillian.” His voice made her name sound like something sweet, a caramel or a chocolate covered cherry.
    “Please come back sometime and we’ll talk after I try to process all this, okay?”
    Howard nodded. “I’ll be here but I’ll stay out of your way until you’re ready.”
    Ghost that he might be, he rose from the stool and walked across the carpet in leather oxfords without sound. Although sunshine streamed through the windows behind him, he cast no shadow on the opposite wall. As he passed, she felt his hand touch her shoulder in reassurance. That hand felt both warm and solid but when she reached upward to grasp it, she met empty air and Howard was gone.

Chapter Three
    If anyone else – her sister Lavinia, another teacher, a neighbor or friend – suggested to Lillian that they had not just seen a ghost but talked with one she would have known that they were delusional. Maybe not insane, perhaps just mistaken but she would not, could not have believed someone else. I am not crazy, Lillian affirmed, I saw someone, I talked to him, and he touched me. However, he could not be a ghost, could he? Of course not!
    She knew better but she wanted to believe. Seeing equaled believing or so the