GHOST OF A CHANCE, a paranormal short story Read Online Free PDF

was,” he thought, and for a moment, a vision of auburn hair flashed through his mind.
    “Are you okay?” she asked and ran her hand through his hair to smooth out the wind-blown locks.  As she did so, she seemed to realize something else.
    “Skippy Ryan had dark hair and blue eyes.  Just like you.  In fact, you look a lot alike.”
    “Anna was a redhead.  A deep rich color.”  At her questioning glance, he explained.  “I just saw it in my head.  Right after the wind left.”
    “Another ghostly visit?” she said, her tones mirroring his own skepticism.
    “If they are trying to tell us something, they’re being rather obtuse,” he said, and with Tracy tucked tight to his side, he urged her from the boathouse.  After they had closed it once more, they walked, arms wrapped around each other, back to the French doors to Tracy’s room.
    Inside they hesitated.  “I’d ask you to stay for a bit—”
    “But it wouldn’t seem right, would it?” he finished for her.
    “No, it wouldn’t.  If I can somehow solve the mystery—”
    “Is winning that important to you?” he asked, cradling her cheek, making her wish that he would stay the night so they could explore the emotions growing between them.  But there was something else that made his staying unwise.
    “I could use the money,” she confessed, but then quickly added, “But now, it’s about more than that.”
    “And I somehow make it more difficult?”
    To say that he was a distraction would be an understatement.  “I need to keep my wits about me so your father can find peace, and crazily, so that these spirits can rest if they really do exist.”
    A very smug smile came to his mouth a second before he lowered his head and whispered against her lips, “All I can hope is that you solve this mystery quickly, because I’m a very impatient man.”
    And as if to prove his point, he kissed her once again, placing every ounce of emotion into the kiss, rekindling the fire that had threatened to blaze out of control in the boat house before the resident spirit had doused it with its little wind display.
    When they broke apart, they were both breathless, and it took the greatest restraint not to forego common sense and spend the night together.
    Tracy closed the door behind him and changed into her pajamas, although sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.  She wanted to review her notes and outline the steps she would take tomorrow in her quest to solve the mystery.  At the desk, someone had thoughtfully left a small tray with a tea service and a plate of cookies.
    She sat down, poured herself a cup of tea, and ate some cookies as she reviewed her notes.  The discussion at dinner tonight had yielded little information since everyone seemed to be playing their cards close to the chest.  The séance had offered just raw emotions, too confusing to understand just yet.  At least the trip to the boathouse had moved her closer to a viable theory.
    The few pages from Peter’s great-grandmother’s journal offered only some additional insight.  It was clear that she had been a woman of great intelligence, offering her opinion on some of the problems of the times and her role as a woman.  Here and there she made reference to “her other life” and how different it had been.  Part of the difference had clearly been economic as many an entry on the pages referred to how she was struggling to get by.  She also mentioned how lucky she was that someone would even want a woman in her condition.
    Tracy pondered that comment, wondering if it was a reference to her poverty or to her being a woman alone with a child.  Unfortunately, the pages stopped before providing enough information to decipher the meaning behind those words.
    With her head drooping and her eyelids drifting closed, Tracy decided it was time to call it a night.  She was too tired to learn much more this evening and she wanted to be fresh in the morning to continue with her