Keeping the Spirit Part Four (PG)
Notes, disclaimers etc. in Part One
Um, yeah... I'm a big ol' meanie...
Part Two.
Part Three.
Originally posted between 17 and 21 December 2007.
Last time...
“Goodbye, Donna.”
She found tears welling up in her eyes and gave his hand a squeeze, thankful to have a chance to do something that she’d been denied before. “Goodbye, Admiral. And thank you.”
Fitz turned and walked away, his red robe billowing along behind him as he walked among the empty desks; Donna kept her eyes on him, watching his figure fade until finally it disappeared altogether.
She sighed and looked around. What was she supposed to do now?
Feeling more than a little silly, she closed her eyes and waited.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Keeping the Spirit - Part Four
When Donna opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to find herself standing in the middle of a cemetery. The sky was a murky grey, the trees were bare, and for the first time since leaving her apartment, she felt a chill run through her… although it had nothing to do with feeling cold.
Clasping her arms instinctively to her chest, she shivered involuntarily. She could feel the hair prickling on the back of her neck, and turned slowly to find herself faced with the last of the three spirits about whom she had been told.
“Am - am I in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas-Yet-to-Come?” she asked nervously.
This specter was shrouded in black, its face hidden by a cowl. It inclined its head once in response to Donna’s question, then raised an arm, and with a gloved hand, pointed a finger over Donna’s right shoulder.
“Well, you’re freaking me out the most, that’s for sure,” she muttered under her breath as she turned to look behind her at the rows of headstones. “Okay,” she said, puffing out a breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Donna began to walk slowly in the direction the spirit had indicated, the gravel on the pathway crunching underfoot. Coming to a line of what looked to be relatively new headstones, she paused, waiting to be shown where to go next. The spirit moved to stand, statue-still beside her, and raised its arm again, pointing at one of them.
“So this is the moment of truth?” she asked, even as she knew she wouldn’t get a response. “This is where you show me - ” and then she stopped, struck suddenly by an incongruous thought that just wouldn’t leave her head. It had been a while since she’d read the book, but - wasn’t the Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come supposed to be about seven feet tall? She frowned as she looked the figure up and down and wondered if perhaps there could be more than one of them - because this one appeared to be considerably smaller than that.
Before Donna could help herself, she found herself blurting out -“Okay, look. I’m sorry if this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing, but really, aren’t you a little, well, short for this?”
The spirit didn’t react, just stood unmoving, still pointing towards the headstone, and despite her thought that it didn’t really cut that imposing a figure, Donna nonetheless felt more than a little uneasy in relation to what she was about to see. And as was her wont when she was nervous, she started to chatter inconsequentially.
“You see, I always thought the Ghost of Christmas Future was supposed to be tall and scary - you know, what with the whole faceless cowl and scythe thing, but I’m afraid you don’t really… um… look the part.”
The spirit still didn’t move.
“Okay.” Donna swallowed hard, her insides churning apprehensively, her gaze now fixed on the grave in front of her. “Look, I get it. Seriously. The other spirits told me I need to stop being so bitter and focusing on the negative things and I’ll try to do that, I really will, so I don’t think I need to see any more - can’t I just go home and - ? ”
Donna stopped talking and sighed. The spirit was still pointing at the headstone.
She took a deep breath and walked over to it, kneeling down in front to read the inscription.
As she’d feared, she was reading her own epitaph.
Donnatella Moss
She skipped down to the dates at the bottom.
1973 - 20... wait. What?
This didn’t make sense. Donna checked the dates again, checked her mental arithmetic - and couldn’t contain her exasperation. She had been more nervous than she’d been prepared to admit about what she was going to discover on her journey with this spirit; and this latest revelation, on top of everything else she’d seen and heard over the last few hours was enough to snap the already thin thread of her patience. She stumbled to her feet and whirled round to face the spirit, who was standing stock-still behind her, its head bent, face obscured by the cowl.
“Wait a minute!” Donna gestured frantically to the gravestone behind her and marched back towards her impassive guide. “Eighty-seven?!” Her voice rose in indignation. “I’m going to die at eighty-seven? What the hell..? I thought this was the part where you showed me that I’ll be going to an early grave unless I change my ways or something!”
The spirit raised its head and, in a completely unexpected gesture, put its hands on its hips.
“Oh, for God’s sake, do you ever shut up?”
There was no mistaking that voice. Donna almost jumped backwards in shock as the ghost pulled back its hood. “You?” she croaked.
The Spirit of Christmas Yet-to-Come settled the heavy fabric around her shoulders and ran a hand through her short curls, no longer jet black as they had once been.
“No wonder you and Josh got along so well; you can't stop talking either!”
Donna found herself completely at a loss for words. As if the simple fact of actually being haunted wasn’t bad enough, someone up there clearly had a pretty twisted sense of humor. Mrs Landingham, Noah Lyman, Admiral Fitwallace, and now … Mandy Hampton?
She knew her mouth was hanging open, and finally managed to collect herself enough to snap it closed. “What the ..?” Donna stammered, watching the spirit as she walked over to the grave.
“Well, you know who I am and why we’re here,” the spirit said and turned, folding her arms across her chest.
Donna frowned. “I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh?”
“Well, in the book… I mean, I thought…” she trailed off helplessly - and then realized that something else wasn’t quite right. “Hang on - how can you be the Spirit of Christmas Yet-to-Come? You’re not…” She stopped suddenly, wondering if it was impolite to ask someone - or, rather, their ghost - if they were, in fact, deceased.
But Mandy had lost none of her directness. “Dead?”
“Uh… yes.”
“Well not in 2005, I’m not, but I am this far into the future.”
“Oh. I see.” Donna took a good look at her new spirit guide. “I think.”
Mandy looked to be sometime in her sixties - possibly a little older - but she was as striking as ever, nonetheless. Her hair was mostly silver, her complexion was of course no longer as smooth as it had been, but her dark eyes were still as bright and full of fire as Donna remembered.
“So now we’ve established that - you thought I was going to show you that you’ll die young?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you don’t. Although,” Mandy cocked her head to the side, considering. “I guess in a way, you did.”
“What do you mean?”
The spirit regarded her thoughtfully and nodded towards the headstone. “Take a closer look.”
Donna frowned then knelt by the grave once more and read -
Donnatella Moss
Beloved Sister, Aunt and Friend
1973-2060
She looked up. “Well?”
Mandy waved an all-encompassing hand. “Look around you.”
Donna’s frown deepened as she moved to look at the headstone next to hers. And then the one next to that - then she got up and walked to look at a couple of others in different rows.
Sarah Clarke
Beloved wife of Daniel and mother of James and Laura…
Annabel Langdon
Beloved wife, mother and grandmother…
James Rawlings
Beloved husband and father of …
Susan Roberts
Beloved wife and …
Donna looked at a few more stones, then returned to stand at the spirit’s side. “Oh, come on. You of all people aren’t going to tell me I didn’t have a good or full life because I didn’t get married or have any kids?”
Mandy’s expression was sarcasm personified. “Hello - have we met?”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what - ?”
“It’s more to do with the reasons you didn’t get married or have any kids.”
Donna was still confused. “Well, you’re not going to tell me it’s because I never got over -” She stopped, feeling suddenly awkward when she remembered just who she was talking to.
But the spirit appeared not to notice. “It’s not that, either,” she said. “Although I will tell you that when Josh died, part of you went with him.”
Donna felt a leaden weight settle in the pit of her stomach; Josh was twelve years her senior, so it made sense that he would have… but even so, the idea that he had gone while she remained wasn’t something she really wanted to contemplate.
“But isn’t that what you wanted?” Mandy said coldly. “To be without him?”
Donna stared at her incredulously. “Not like that!”
Mandy shrugged. “Just checking.”
“How could you even begin to think I’d think like that?” Donna protested vehemently.
“Oh, relax, would you?” The spirit waved a hand and perched herself atop a nearby plinth. “Of course I didn’t mean that. But you can’t deny that you’ve spent the last few months trying to convince yourself that you don’t want or need him.”
It was on the tip of Donna’s tongue to insist she’d been doing nothing of the sort - but a glance at the expression on Mandy’s face told her that would be pointless. So instead, she changed the subject, trying to inject a brightness into her tone that she really didn’t feel.
“Well, if you’re not going to show me that my misdeeds are going to send me to an early grave, why are you here?”
Mandy’s brows knit together as she subjected Donna to an intense scrutiny. Then her expression cleared and it seemed to Donna as though she had reached some sort of decision. “I thought that much would be clear,” she said brusquely. “I’m going to show you what could happen to you if you don’t stop down this path you appear to be bent on following.”
Donna raised her eyebrows in surprise. “But I’m not! Not any more, I - ”
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “So why were you going to tell me you hadn’t been doing all those things I said before?”
“I wasn’t, I - ”
Mandy didn’t heed Donna’s attempt at an interruption. “Why, after everything you’ve learned tonight about Josh and the way he feels about you, do you still insist on denying it? If you want to get over him and you need to get away from him in order to do it, well then, okay, I can’t stop you.” Mandy stood and walked to stand at Donna’s side. “But,” she said in a gentler tone, “lying to yourself and trying to force yourself to stop feeling the way you do isn’t going to work.” She took a deep breath. “And I know what I’m talking about, because I loved him once, too.”
Donna’s eyes widened in surprise - and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
The spirit shot her a sidelong glance. “And while you may find that hard to believe,” she continued, “it’s true. Despite his many and manifest faults, Josh is that rare thing - a beautiful man. Smart, charming, very cute, loyal to a fault and passionate about the things he believes in. And he’s hard to get over. He gets under your skin in a way you’d never have thought possible, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”
Donna was more than a little surprised to hear all that, coming from Mandy. By the time they’d met, her relationship with Josh had been all but over, and what Donna had seen hadn’t been at all pretty. But hearing her talk about him that way, now… Donna found a lump forming in her throat. “I know,” she whispered, finding unexpected relief in honesty at last. “And it got to be that every time I looked at him, all I could think about was how much it hurt to feel the way I did.”
“So you decided to stop.”
“Yes. I didn’t know what else to do. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel like that any more,” she drew in a shaky breath. “And the only way I could do that was to try to get over him.”
A mischievous smile hovered around Mandy’s lips. “How’s that working for you, so far?”
“Not too well, obviously,” Donna deadpanned, gratefully responding to the sudden shift in tone.
“Well, I’d offer to give you some pointers, but I think you’re too far gone.”
Donna groaned and put her hands to her face. “God, I’m hopeless.”
“No, not hopeless,” Mandy said, kindly. “You’re just in love.”
Donna peered through her fingers at her companion before she removed her hands from her face. “You know, hearing stuff like that from you is seriously freaking me out.”
Mandy cocked her head to one side. “Good.” She stretched out her arm. “Shall we go?”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Donna’s first thought, as she let go of the sleeve of the spirit’s robe was that they hadn’t moved. But though she was still surrounded by headstones, the grey sky was now blue, and she was standing in bright winter sunshine. Then when she looked around at the graves, she could see that the inscriptions and the symbols engraved on the memorials were different than before.
This was a Jewish cemetery.
She didn’t pretend not to know what she was here to see.
She took a couple of deep breaths. “So… where is he?”
Mandy nodded in the direction of a grave a couple of rows to their left, and Donna had begun to make her way over to it when she noticed two figures approaching slowly from the opposite direction. As they came closer, Donna was able to see that they were an old woman and a much younger man; the woman was clearly quite frail and leaned heavily on a stick and on the man’s arm as she trod carefully along the path.
The woman and her companion left the path and began to walk among the graves and Donna frowned in confusion when she realized that they all appeared to be walking towards the same place. When the two other visitors reached the edge of the grave, the woman turned to face the stone, lifted her head and smiled - and Donna realized with a start that this was no stranger. She was looking at Rachel Lyman.
“Hello, Joshua.”
Donna made her way slowly past Josh’s mother and her companion who, she now saw, was a young rabbi, and came to a stop in front of the two adjacent stones.
Noah and Joanie. Of course.
Mrs Lyman was speaking softly and Donna had stepped back to stand at her side before it occurred to her that something wasn’t right here. Josh’s mother was still alive? A feeling of dread washed over her as she turned to look at Mandy, who said nothing, merely nodding towards the headstone.
Hesitantly, Donna moved forward and forced herself to read the inscription.
She recognized the Hebrew forms of Joshua and Noah, and some other words she knew formed a blessing. Slowly, she ran her eyes further down the stone until she came to the English inscription, and finally… the dates at the bottom.
1961-2012.
No.
She blinked and looked again.
… 2012.
Donna started to back away, the text engraved on the headstone beginning to blur as her eyes filled with tears. When she had reached the edge of the grave, she sank down heavily on the grass and began to rock backwards and forwards slowly, hugging herself tightly, her head resting on her knees. She cleared her throat several times in an attempt to clear the apple-sized lump that appeared to have formed there, her breathing was shaky and uneven, and she couldn’t think straight - she couldn’t think at all - the only thing in her mind that it was too soon, too soon…
She realized suddenly that she was gulping in air, her head starting to spin from the sudden surfeit of oxygen. As she fought to get her breathing under control, the soft voice of the elderly woman next to her began to penetrate the fog in her head.
“I’m sorry, Joshua,” she was saying, “but I think this is going to be my last visit.” Donna looked up, and wiped a hand across her eyes in time to see the young rabbi open his mouth, probably to offer a contradiction - but Rachel waved him away. “I’ll be joining you all shortly, I think, and it’s about time. It’s bad enough to have outlived one child… but to have outlived both of them… well, let’s just say it’s not the way I envisaged things working out.”
Rachel paused, smiling softly. “So this is goodbye. For now. But I’ll be with you all soon.” Slowly, and with the help of the young man at her side, she moved forward and laid a pebble on the headstone. “I love you,” she whispered, before she turned and moved to her husband’s grave, then her daughter’s to lay a stone on each, and say her goodbyes. She lingered briefly at her husband’s graveside, and then she and her companion made their way back to the path and began to walk away.
Donna watched them go in silence, looking after them long after they had disappeared from view.
After a few minutes, she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye as Mandy came over to sit down next to her. “You okay?”
Donna picked absently at the grass beside her. “I’m fine,” she ground out, still staring off into the distance. “So,” she puffed out a breath and turned to face the spirit. “How’d you get this job?”
Mandy snorted. “Of all the questions you must have, that’s the one you want answered?”
Donna pulled up some more grass and muttered, “Seems as good a place to start as any.”
“Donna,” Mandy sighed, “just ask me what you want to know.”
She shook her head, struggling to blink back her tears, and then took a deep breath. God, this was hard. “How did he…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “What happened?” she asked quietly.
“He had a heart attack,” Mandy said simply. “There was nothing anybody could have done; it happened pretty quickly. Given the kind of stress levels he lived with, and then - well, let’s just say things didn’t ease up on that front after you left, and …” she shrugged, “you know what he was like.”
Donna tried to swallow through the lump in her throat. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she croaked, feebly.
Mandy raised a well-kept eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like he’s… you know…”
“Well, I’m sorry Donna, but here, he is d -”
Donna jumped up and began to walk away, sucking in huge, gasping breaths as she tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. When she looked at her hands, she found they were shaking and clenched her fists in an effort to stop them, digging her nails into her palms.
This can’t happen, she thought angrily. It can’t.
“He was always a workaholic, Donna,” the spirit’s voice came from just behind her. “You know he was. But somehow, and I don’t know how, you kept him from the worst excesses. But after you left -”
Donna stopped and rounded on her, furiously. “You’re saying it’s my fault?”
“No, of course not,” Mandy said, vehemently. “He had a heart attack, Donna, and that’s nobody’s fault. It’s just that after you left, he never let up. He always worked incredibly hard, you know that, but without you, he became even more monomaniacal, if that’s possible.”
Donna laughed humorlessly. “I can’t think that it would be. But then he always was an overachiever.” She screwed her eyes tight shut and swallowed hard; talking and thinking about Josh in the past tense was making her feel sick. “But,” she said, shakily, needing to ask the question even if she didn’t like the answer, “is - is it set in stone? I mean, is there no way to change things?”
Mandy looked ahead, squinting in the sunshine. “This is just one of several alternative futures, Donna. I can’t tell you for sure what happens in any of the others - this one is mine and is the one I’m supposed to show you. I can’t predict the future any more than you can. But maybe if Josh had had something - or someone - else in his life to focus that not inconsiderable energy of his on, it would have provided a better balance and eased the pressure.”
Donna felt a tiny spark of hope beginning to flicker in her chest. “So, maybe if - ”
The spirit shrugged, non-commitally, and started to walk towards the path. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Donna set off after her. “But surely - ”
“I told you, I don’t have a crystal ball.”
“Yes, but - ”
“Donna,” Mandy said, a little exasperatedly, “I really can’t tell you any more. And,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “now we have to move on.”
Donna knew there was no point in trying to glean anything further. It appeared the spirits were on a schedule and there was no messing with it, so she touched the sleeve of her companion’s robe and closed her eyes…
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The room she found herself in now was unfamiliar. It was obviously a bedroom, quite large and airy, tastefully decorated, very tidy - in fact, she thought, it was maybe just a little too tidy for her tastes. It looked comfortable, sure, but there was something a bit impersonal about it.
She walked to the window and looked out - but that offered her no clue as to where she was. She could see houses on the other side of the street, trees stripped bare and stark against the gray winter skies. She pulled back and looked around the room once more, then hearing the sound of a muffled voice drifting up from below she walked cautiously to the door, opened it and went out onto the landing.
“I just didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be alone, not now, not after…” Her mother’s voice floated up to her as Donna sat down at the top of the stairs where she could see Marjorie standing in the hallway, talking on the phone.
“I’m staying for a few days. I know that’s going to mean I’m not home for Christmas, but we’ll have to manage.”
Donna was puzzled. Why wasn’t her mother going to be at home for Christmas? And more to the point, what was she doing here and whose house was this?
“No, I know, but I’m sure they’ll understand.”
If her mother was here, then -
“It’s yours.” Mandy’s voice, coming from just behind her, made Donna jump.
“I know Mrs Landingham said it was your job to startle people, but do you have to take that so literally?”
Mandy pouted. “But that’s the fun part.”
Donna just shook her head and turned back to look down at her mother. “This is my house?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Does that matter right now?”
“Well, no, not really, I guess,
Marjorie finished her conversation and replaced the receiver, then walked into one of the rooms off the hall. Donna stood and had walked back up to the landing when she heard a door slam, and saw herself, dressed in jeans and a pale blue sweater carrying two dusty, yet familiar looking cardboard boxes, come through another door and begin to make her way up the stairs.
“Donna?” Her mother’s voice, issuing from somewhere off the hall made the Donna carrying the boxes stop. “Yeah?”
Marjorie’s head appeared around the door. “I’m making some tea - would you like some?”
“Uh, I - yes please,” the other Donna said carelessly, clearly wanting to prevent any attempt at a conversation on her mother’s part as she continued to climb the stairs.
Donna and the spirit followed her into the room they’d just come out of - and she was surprised when she realized it must be her own bedroom several years in the future. It just didn’t feel like her, somehow.
She watched herself put the boxes on the bed, toe off her shoes and sit down slowly, one leg tucked underneath her. Hesitantly, the woman on the bed pulled open the first, smaller box, turned it upside down and emptied it, spreading the contents - photos and newspaper cuttings, mostly - out on the bed around her. Then she pulled the second box towards her and started to take out a few more things; some books, magazines, photo albums - and then, rummaging around in the bottom, she pulled out an old ID badge, one the Donna who was watching recognized instantly.
She found herself unable to tear her gaze from her older self as she began to look through the photographs. “When is this?” Donna whispered to the spirit, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. “It’s - it’s after he… after Josh…” she swallowed, still unable to say the word, “isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Mandy, quietly. “Two weeks after, to be precise. Christmas Eve, 2012.”
“And this is why my mother doesn’t want me to be alone?”
“It is.”
“But if he… it happened two weeks ago, why this? Why now?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Donna looked at Mandy, her black robes settled around her as she sat casually in a chair in the corner of the room.
“That sounds ominous.”
“You didn’t want her to come. In fact, you expressly told her not to come. But she’s your mother. She saw through the crap you were feeding her about being fine and being too busy at work and turned up on the doorstep yesterday.”
Donna bridled a little at that - but then she remembered the conversation she’d had with her mother earlier that evening, how she’d been impatient for it to be over, how she’d wanted to avoid spending a lot of time with her family over the holidays… and realized that it wasn’t such a great leap from that, to the way she apparently behaved towards her mother in the future..
Donna moved closer to the bed and sat on the edge, trying to get used to the fact that she was looking over her own shoulder as her older self sorted through the photographs. She was clearly looking for something specific, although every so often, her gaze would linger on one or other of them before she put them back into the box. Donna hadn’t looked at most of these photos for ages; there were quite a lot, dating from early on the first campaign to the second inauguration and beyond, quite a few of them of her and Josh - at official functions, or informal gatherings, or even just on nights out with CJ, Toby and Sam. Sometimes, it was just the two of them in the picture, in others they were part of a group shot, but in nearly all of them, they were standing or sitting next to each other. Some shots were posed and they’d both be beaming at the camera, and in others they’d been caught off guard, sitting together quietly, in mid conversation or some other informal situation. The other Donna was now looking at one of those, taken, by the looks of it, on the night of the second Inauguration. In it, Donna was sitting at a table, talking to Toby, while Josh stood with one hand resting on the back of her chair. Donna had looked at that photo many, many times and yet… somehow, she’d missed the soft smile on Josh’s face as he looked down at her. The memories of that night welled up suddenly; the bad cops, the snowballs, the way it had felt to be in Josh’s arms when they’d finally managed to dance together … lost in her thoughts, Donna started at the sound of a sharp intake of breath. She’d been so busy looking at the photographs that she hadn’t been looking at herself; and when she did so now, she could see that the woman next to her was crying silently, the hand pressed to her mouth stifling the strangled sobs that were wracking her body.
Donna found herself getting choked up, too and took a couple of deep breaths to stave off the impending tears. “Didn’t she - I mean, I … didn’t I see him again after..?”
“After you left?”
Donna nodded, her eyes still trained on the woman sitting by her on the bed.
“Just once, the following year, but that was it. And before you ask, I can’t tell you any more about that, so there’s no point asking me. Oh, and by the way, you should remember the date,” Mandy said coldly. “It’s the last time you ever cry.”
Donna turned to look at her incredulously. “What?”
Mandy shrugged. “It’s true. One last time before you go back into your little cocoon.”
Donna just glared at her.
“Hey - none of this is my fault. It’s all down to you, so don’t get pissy with me.”
Scowling, Donna turned back to look at the woman seated on the bed. She was no longer sobbing quite so violently and was now studying another photo, one Donna remembered had been taken around last Christmas, during the tree-lighting ceremony at the White House. She and Josh were standing together, slightly apart from the main group of onlookers. He was leaning in to say something to her - probably to tease her some more about her present; their heads were almost touching, his dimples were out in full force and her eyes were shining, reflecting the bright lights that were encircling the majestic Norwegian fir.
Then suddenly, it was as though a switch had flipped, and the older Donna cleared her throat a couple of times before she began throwing the photographs and cuttings back into the box, fiercely. She had almost finished packing them away when there was a knock on the bedroom door, and her mother appeared, bearing the promised cup of tea.
Marjorie set the cup down on the bedside table, and bent to pick up a couple of stray photographs from the floor.
“These are nice,” she commented, before handing them back to her daughter, who immediately consigned them to the box with the others. “I don’t remember seeing those before.” She moved to the other side of the bed - and Donna sprang up, realizing that her mother was about to sit in the exact spot she was currently occupying.
Mandy sniggered. “She can’t see you or touch you, you know.”
Donna glared at her and walked over to perch on the arm of her chair. “I do know,” she hissed. “But the idea of my mother sitting on me - through me… whatever - is just a little too weird.”
The spirit shrugged and Donna turned her attention back to the two women sitting on the bed.
“Donna,” Marjorie began, watching her daughter throwing things haphazardly back into the box, “I know this is a … difficult time for you, and I don’t mean to interfere - but I’m worried about you.”
Donna didn’t look up. She finished packing away the pictures and other things into the box and reached for the lid. “You needn’t be,” she said flatly. “I’m fine.”
Her mother laid a hand on her arm. “You’re not,” she persisted, gently. “This isn’t right. Josh was a big part of your life, and while I know you parted on… less than amicable terms, it wasn’t always like that. Yet you wouldn’t go to the funeral. Mrs. Lyman called a couple of times and you wouldn’t speak to her.”
“I just - I didn’t want to.”
“It’s unlike you.”
Donna rounded on her, suddenly. “How the hell do you know what’s like me and what isn’t, mom?”
Marjorie’s initial look of shock was quickly replaced by an almost glacial expression.
“I know this isn’t you, Donna,” she said, firmly. “Or at least it used not to be. You’ve got your high-powered job and a nice house and an expensive car, but I can’t remember the last time you ever talked about a friend. I can’t remember the last time you went out on a date, or were interested in anyone. Whatever happened between you and Josh all those years ago, that’s when this,” she waved a hand around emphatically, “all started. What on earth did he do to you to turn you into this - this… empty shell?”
“What did he do?” Donna jumped off the bed, her hands balled tightly into fists at her side. “He took me for granted, is what he did! He took me for granted, he stifled my career, he - ”
“Oh, for God’s sake Donna, just listen to yourself! The man’s dead and you wouldn’t go to his funeral because he wouldn’t give you a damn promotion?!”
“No! I didn’t go because it would have meant saying -” she broke off suddenly and covered her face with her hands, sinking back down onto the bed, sucking in long, ragged breaths.
“It would have meant saying goodbye,” Marjorie said perceptively, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared as she sat down and pulled her daughter into a hug.
Donna nodded.
Mother and daughter sat silently for a long time. Then Donna pulled back from the hug and pulled out a few tissues from the box beside the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled, blowing her nose.
“You don’t have to apologize, dear.” Marjorie stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed, idly turning over a couple of the books and magazines that were still strewn around.
Donna just sniffed again, reached for another tissue and wiped her eyes.
The younger Donna, sitting quietly with the spirit, swallowed hard. “I’ve seen enough,” she croaked. “Are we done here?”
Mandy looked up at her, her expression almost apologetic. “Not quite.”
“Please, I don’t think I can bear -” Donna began, stopping suddenly when she saw her mother pick up a book from the bed and turn it over gently in her hands.
“’The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing’?”
The Donna sitting on the bed blew her nose again. “Yeah. I’d been teasing Josh about wanting skiing equipment for Christmas one year… and he gave me that.”
“An unusual gift.”
“I guess it was. But then again, it wasn’t really.” She smiled, ruefully. “Josh has,” she sucked in a breath, “had - this incredible way of doing or saying just the right thing at just the right time. Of course, he also had an incredible knack for saying or doing exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time - but this wasn’t one of those.”
Marjorie smiled and opened the book.
“Well …” she breathed, after a moment or two.
“What?”
“The inscription. It’s beautiful. I didn’t realize he …”
Donna smiled wanly. “I know. I had no idea he could write so - elegantly, either.”
Marjorie looked up. “No, I meant I hadn’t realized he felt that way about you back then.”
Donna frowned. “What way?”
Marjorie held out the book. “Look at what he’s written, Donna,” she said gently. “I’d defy any man to write something like that to a woman he didn’t care for, deeply.”
Donna took it, the puzzled frown still creasing her brow as she opened the book at the flyleaf and read silently. When she’d finished, she closed it slowly, and sat looking at the cover for a minute or two, running her thumb gently over the embossed lettering of the title.
Then she cleared her throat and looked up at her mother, her composure regained, her expression carefully blank. To the Donna looking on, it felt as though the woman she and her spirit companion had been watching had disappeared and been replaced by a different person, because the atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly to have changed completely.
“Well, it’s too late for that now,” the older Donna said impassively, reaching for the second of the boxes and putting the book in the bottom.
Marjorie may have been rendered temporarily speechless, but the expression of dismay on her face spoke volumes as she watched her daughter stand up and, without looking at any of it, put everything else back into the box.
“It took me a while,” Donna said, putting on the lid, “but I got over him.”
Marjorie shook her head. “You never got over Josh, Donna,” she said, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You just learned to exist without him.” She stood and walked to the door. “Because what you’re doing isn’t living.”
Donna said nothing. She stacked the boxes one on top of the other, picked them up and walked over to a large closet in the corner of the room. Her mother watched sadly for a few minutes, as Donna set the boxes on the floor of the closet and pushed them underneath the bottom shelf, as far back as they would go.
“Drink your tea before it gets cold,” Marjorie said flatly, and left, closing the door firmly behind her.
Mandy stood, shaking out her robes. “Come on. We’ve got another stop to make.”
Donna was still watching herself as she moved around the bedroom, almost unable to believe that this calm, collected person was the same woman who’d succumbed to such raw emotion just a few moments earlier.
And even more unnerving - the thought that she could be this woman in six more years? Someone who had schooled her emotions to such an extent that it was possible to, metaphorically speaking, put a lid on even the strongest of them and put them away at the back of a closet at will?
“That’s a nice allegory, but it’s more than that, you know.”
Donna’s head snapped up. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”
The spirit shrugged. “I’m supposed to do that, it’s my job. And it’s not just that you trained yourself not to show your feelings; you started to train yourself not to have any. And after today, you’re finally able to stop the training part, because it’s ingrained. There have been times over the past six years when you showed that you had a little chink in your armor - not many, it’s true, but a few nonetheless, but this is the last time. You filled in that gap today.”
“So… that’s it?”
“That’s up to you, don’t you think?”
Donna stood, wearily. “I’m too shattered to think. I just want to go home.”
Mandy smirked. “And I thought we were getting along so well.”
“We’d get along better if you let me go home.”
“Sorry.” She held out her arm. “Let’s go.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Part Five
Um, yeah... I'm a big ol' meanie...
Part Two.
Part Three.
Originally posted between 17 and 21 December 2007.
Last time...
“Goodbye, Donna.”
She found tears welling up in her eyes and gave his hand a squeeze, thankful to have a chance to do something that she’d been denied before. “Goodbye, Admiral. And thank you.”
Fitz turned and walked away, his red robe billowing along behind him as he walked among the empty desks; Donna kept her eyes on him, watching his figure fade until finally it disappeared altogether.
She sighed and looked around. What was she supposed to do now?
Feeling more than a little silly, she closed her eyes and waited.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Keeping the Spirit - Part Four
When Donna opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to find herself standing in the middle of a cemetery. The sky was a murky grey, the trees were bare, and for the first time since leaving her apartment, she felt a chill run through her… although it had nothing to do with feeling cold.
Clasping her arms instinctively to her chest, she shivered involuntarily. She could feel the hair prickling on the back of her neck, and turned slowly to find herself faced with the last of the three spirits about whom she had been told.
“Am - am I in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas-Yet-to-Come?” she asked nervously.
This specter was shrouded in black, its face hidden by a cowl. It inclined its head once in response to Donna’s question, then raised an arm, and with a gloved hand, pointed a finger over Donna’s right shoulder.
“Well, you’re freaking me out the most, that’s for sure,” she muttered under her breath as she turned to look behind her at the rows of headstones. “Okay,” she said, puffing out a breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Donna began to walk slowly in the direction the spirit had indicated, the gravel on the pathway crunching underfoot. Coming to a line of what looked to be relatively new headstones, she paused, waiting to be shown where to go next. The spirit moved to stand, statue-still beside her, and raised its arm again, pointing at one of them.
“So this is the moment of truth?” she asked, even as she knew she wouldn’t get a response. “This is where you show me - ” and then she stopped, struck suddenly by an incongruous thought that just wouldn’t leave her head. It had been a while since she’d read the book, but - wasn’t the Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come supposed to be about seven feet tall? She frowned as she looked the figure up and down and wondered if perhaps there could be more than one of them - because this one appeared to be considerably smaller than that.
Before Donna could help herself, she found herself blurting out -“Okay, look. I’m sorry if this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing, but really, aren’t you a little, well, short for this?”
The spirit didn’t react, just stood unmoving, still pointing towards the headstone, and despite her thought that it didn’t really cut that imposing a figure, Donna nonetheless felt more than a little uneasy in relation to what she was about to see. And as was her wont when she was nervous, she started to chatter inconsequentially.
“You see, I always thought the Ghost of Christmas Future was supposed to be tall and scary - you know, what with the whole faceless cowl and scythe thing, but I’m afraid you don’t really… um… look the part.”
The spirit still didn’t move.
“Okay.” Donna swallowed hard, her insides churning apprehensively, her gaze now fixed on the grave in front of her. “Look, I get it. Seriously. The other spirits told me I need to stop being so bitter and focusing on the negative things and I’ll try to do that, I really will, so I don’t think I need to see any more - can’t I just go home and - ? ”
Donna stopped talking and sighed. The spirit was still pointing at the headstone.
She took a deep breath and walked over to it, kneeling down in front to read the inscription.
As she’d feared, she was reading her own epitaph.
Donnatella Moss
She skipped down to the dates at the bottom.
1973 - 20... wait. What?
This didn’t make sense. Donna checked the dates again, checked her mental arithmetic - and couldn’t contain her exasperation. She had been more nervous than she’d been prepared to admit about what she was going to discover on her journey with this spirit; and this latest revelation, on top of everything else she’d seen and heard over the last few hours was enough to snap the already thin thread of her patience. She stumbled to her feet and whirled round to face the spirit, who was standing stock-still behind her, its head bent, face obscured by the cowl.
“Wait a minute!” Donna gestured frantically to the gravestone behind her and marched back towards her impassive guide. “Eighty-seven?!” Her voice rose in indignation. “I’m going to die at eighty-seven? What the hell..? I thought this was the part where you showed me that I’ll be going to an early grave unless I change my ways or something!”
The spirit raised its head and, in a completely unexpected gesture, put its hands on its hips.
“Oh, for God’s sake, do you ever shut up?”
There was no mistaking that voice. Donna almost jumped backwards in shock as the ghost pulled back its hood. “You?” she croaked.
The Spirit of Christmas Yet-to-Come settled the heavy fabric around her shoulders and ran a hand through her short curls, no longer jet black as they had once been.
“No wonder you and Josh got along so well; you can't stop talking either!”
Donna found herself completely at a loss for words. As if the simple fact of actually being haunted wasn’t bad enough, someone up there clearly had a pretty twisted sense of humor. Mrs Landingham, Noah Lyman, Admiral Fitwallace, and now … Mandy Hampton?
She knew her mouth was hanging open, and finally managed to collect herself enough to snap it closed. “What the ..?” Donna stammered, watching the spirit as she walked over to the grave.
“Well, you know who I am and why we’re here,” the spirit said and turned, folding her arms across her chest.
Donna frowned. “I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh?”
“Well, in the book… I mean, I thought…” she trailed off helplessly - and then realized that something else wasn’t quite right. “Hang on - how can you be the Spirit of Christmas Yet-to-Come? You’re not…” She stopped suddenly, wondering if it was impolite to ask someone - or, rather, their ghost - if they were, in fact, deceased.
But Mandy had lost none of her directness. “Dead?”
“Uh… yes.”
“Well not in 2005, I’m not, but I am this far into the future.”
“Oh. I see.” Donna took a good look at her new spirit guide. “I think.”
Mandy looked to be sometime in her sixties - possibly a little older - but she was as striking as ever, nonetheless. Her hair was mostly silver, her complexion was of course no longer as smooth as it had been, but her dark eyes were still as bright and full of fire as Donna remembered.
“So now we’ve established that - you thought I was going to show you that you’ll die young?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you don’t. Although,” Mandy cocked her head to the side, considering. “I guess in a way, you did.”
“What do you mean?”
The spirit regarded her thoughtfully and nodded towards the headstone. “Take a closer look.”
Donna frowned then knelt by the grave once more and read -
Donnatella Moss
Beloved Sister, Aunt and Friend
1973-2060
She looked up. “Well?”
Mandy waved an all-encompassing hand. “Look around you.”
Donna’s frown deepened as she moved to look at the headstone next to hers. And then the one next to that - then she got up and walked to look at a couple of others in different rows.
Sarah Clarke
Beloved wife of Daniel and mother of James and Laura…
Annabel Langdon
Beloved wife, mother and grandmother…
James Rawlings
Beloved husband and father of …
Susan Roberts
Beloved wife and …
Donna looked at a few more stones, then returned to stand at the spirit’s side. “Oh, come on. You of all people aren’t going to tell me I didn’t have a good or full life because I didn’t get married or have any kids?”
Mandy’s expression was sarcasm personified. “Hello - have we met?”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what - ?”
“It’s more to do with the reasons you didn’t get married or have any kids.”
Donna was still confused. “Well, you’re not going to tell me it’s because I never got over -” She stopped, feeling suddenly awkward when she remembered just who she was talking to.
But the spirit appeared not to notice. “It’s not that, either,” she said. “Although I will tell you that when Josh died, part of you went with him.”
Donna felt a leaden weight settle in the pit of her stomach; Josh was twelve years her senior, so it made sense that he would have… but even so, the idea that he had gone while she remained wasn’t something she really wanted to contemplate.
“But isn’t that what you wanted?” Mandy said coldly. “To be without him?”
Donna stared at her incredulously. “Not like that!”
Mandy shrugged. “Just checking.”
“How could you even begin to think I’d think like that?” Donna protested vehemently.
“Oh, relax, would you?” The spirit waved a hand and perched herself atop a nearby plinth. “Of course I didn’t mean that. But you can’t deny that you’ve spent the last few months trying to convince yourself that you don’t want or need him.”
It was on the tip of Donna’s tongue to insist she’d been doing nothing of the sort - but a glance at the expression on Mandy’s face told her that would be pointless. So instead, she changed the subject, trying to inject a brightness into her tone that she really didn’t feel.
“Well, if you’re not going to show me that my misdeeds are going to send me to an early grave, why are you here?”
Mandy’s brows knit together as she subjected Donna to an intense scrutiny. Then her expression cleared and it seemed to Donna as though she had reached some sort of decision. “I thought that much would be clear,” she said brusquely. “I’m going to show you what could happen to you if you don’t stop down this path you appear to be bent on following.”
Donna raised her eyebrows in surprise. “But I’m not! Not any more, I - ”
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “So why were you going to tell me you hadn’t been doing all those things I said before?”
“I wasn’t, I - ”
Mandy didn’t heed Donna’s attempt at an interruption. “Why, after everything you’ve learned tonight about Josh and the way he feels about you, do you still insist on denying it? If you want to get over him and you need to get away from him in order to do it, well then, okay, I can’t stop you.” Mandy stood and walked to stand at Donna’s side. “But,” she said in a gentler tone, “lying to yourself and trying to force yourself to stop feeling the way you do isn’t going to work.” She took a deep breath. “And I know what I’m talking about, because I loved him once, too.”
Donna’s eyes widened in surprise - and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
The spirit shot her a sidelong glance. “And while you may find that hard to believe,” she continued, “it’s true. Despite his many and manifest faults, Josh is that rare thing - a beautiful man. Smart, charming, very cute, loyal to a fault and passionate about the things he believes in. And he’s hard to get over. He gets under your skin in a way you’d never have thought possible, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”
Donna was more than a little surprised to hear all that, coming from Mandy. By the time they’d met, her relationship with Josh had been all but over, and what Donna had seen hadn’t been at all pretty. But hearing her talk about him that way, now… Donna found a lump forming in her throat. “I know,” she whispered, finding unexpected relief in honesty at last. “And it got to be that every time I looked at him, all I could think about was how much it hurt to feel the way I did.”
“So you decided to stop.”
“Yes. I didn’t know what else to do. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel like that any more,” she drew in a shaky breath. “And the only way I could do that was to try to get over him.”
A mischievous smile hovered around Mandy’s lips. “How’s that working for you, so far?”
“Not too well, obviously,” Donna deadpanned, gratefully responding to the sudden shift in tone.
“Well, I’d offer to give you some pointers, but I think you’re too far gone.”
Donna groaned and put her hands to her face. “God, I’m hopeless.”
“No, not hopeless,” Mandy said, kindly. “You’re just in love.”
Donna peered through her fingers at her companion before she removed her hands from her face. “You know, hearing stuff like that from you is seriously freaking me out.”
Mandy cocked her head to one side. “Good.” She stretched out her arm. “Shall we go?”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Donna’s first thought, as she let go of the sleeve of the spirit’s robe was that they hadn’t moved. But though she was still surrounded by headstones, the grey sky was now blue, and she was standing in bright winter sunshine. Then when she looked around at the graves, she could see that the inscriptions and the symbols engraved on the memorials were different than before.
This was a Jewish cemetery.
She didn’t pretend not to know what she was here to see.
She took a couple of deep breaths. “So… where is he?”
Mandy nodded in the direction of a grave a couple of rows to their left, and Donna had begun to make her way over to it when she noticed two figures approaching slowly from the opposite direction. As they came closer, Donna was able to see that they were an old woman and a much younger man; the woman was clearly quite frail and leaned heavily on a stick and on the man’s arm as she trod carefully along the path.
The woman and her companion left the path and began to walk among the graves and Donna frowned in confusion when she realized that they all appeared to be walking towards the same place. When the two other visitors reached the edge of the grave, the woman turned to face the stone, lifted her head and smiled - and Donna realized with a start that this was no stranger. She was looking at Rachel Lyman.
“Hello, Joshua.”
Donna made her way slowly past Josh’s mother and her companion who, she now saw, was a young rabbi, and came to a stop in front of the two adjacent stones.
Noah and Joanie. Of course.
Mrs Lyman was speaking softly and Donna had stepped back to stand at her side before it occurred to her that something wasn’t right here. Josh’s mother was still alive? A feeling of dread washed over her as she turned to look at Mandy, who said nothing, merely nodding towards the headstone.
Hesitantly, Donna moved forward and forced herself to read the inscription.
She recognized the Hebrew forms of Joshua and Noah, and some other words she knew formed a blessing. Slowly, she ran her eyes further down the stone until she came to the English inscription, and finally… the dates at the bottom.
1961-2012.
No.
She blinked and looked again.
… 2012.
Donna started to back away, the text engraved on the headstone beginning to blur as her eyes filled with tears. When she had reached the edge of the grave, she sank down heavily on the grass and began to rock backwards and forwards slowly, hugging herself tightly, her head resting on her knees. She cleared her throat several times in an attempt to clear the apple-sized lump that appeared to have formed there, her breathing was shaky and uneven, and she couldn’t think straight - she couldn’t think at all - the only thing in her mind that it was too soon, too soon…
She realized suddenly that she was gulping in air, her head starting to spin from the sudden surfeit of oxygen. As she fought to get her breathing under control, the soft voice of the elderly woman next to her began to penetrate the fog in her head.
“I’m sorry, Joshua,” she was saying, “but I think this is going to be my last visit.” Donna looked up, and wiped a hand across her eyes in time to see the young rabbi open his mouth, probably to offer a contradiction - but Rachel waved him away. “I’ll be joining you all shortly, I think, and it’s about time. It’s bad enough to have outlived one child… but to have outlived both of them… well, let’s just say it’s not the way I envisaged things working out.”
Rachel paused, smiling softly. “So this is goodbye. For now. But I’ll be with you all soon.” Slowly, and with the help of the young man at her side, she moved forward and laid a pebble on the headstone. “I love you,” she whispered, before she turned and moved to her husband’s grave, then her daughter’s to lay a stone on each, and say her goodbyes. She lingered briefly at her husband’s graveside, and then she and her companion made their way back to the path and began to walk away.
Donna watched them go in silence, looking after them long after they had disappeared from view.
After a few minutes, she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye as Mandy came over to sit down next to her. “You okay?”
Donna picked absently at the grass beside her. “I’m fine,” she ground out, still staring off into the distance. “So,” she puffed out a breath and turned to face the spirit. “How’d you get this job?”
Mandy snorted. “Of all the questions you must have, that’s the one you want answered?”
Donna pulled up some more grass and muttered, “Seems as good a place to start as any.”
“Donna,” Mandy sighed, “just ask me what you want to know.”
She shook her head, struggling to blink back her tears, and then took a deep breath. God, this was hard. “How did he…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “What happened?” she asked quietly.
“He had a heart attack,” Mandy said simply. “There was nothing anybody could have done; it happened pretty quickly. Given the kind of stress levels he lived with, and then - well, let’s just say things didn’t ease up on that front after you left, and …” she shrugged, “you know what he was like.”
Donna tried to swallow through the lump in her throat. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she croaked, feebly.
Mandy raised a well-kept eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like he’s… you know…”
“Well, I’m sorry Donna, but here, he is d -”
Donna jumped up and began to walk away, sucking in huge, gasping breaths as she tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. When she looked at her hands, she found they were shaking and clenched her fists in an effort to stop them, digging her nails into her palms.
This can’t happen, she thought angrily. It can’t.
“He was always a workaholic, Donna,” the spirit’s voice came from just behind her. “You know he was. But somehow, and I don’t know how, you kept him from the worst excesses. But after you left -”
Donna stopped and rounded on her, furiously. “You’re saying it’s my fault?”
“No, of course not,” Mandy said, vehemently. “He had a heart attack, Donna, and that’s nobody’s fault. It’s just that after you left, he never let up. He always worked incredibly hard, you know that, but without you, he became even more monomaniacal, if that’s possible.”
Donna laughed humorlessly. “I can’t think that it would be. But then he always was an overachiever.” She screwed her eyes tight shut and swallowed hard; talking and thinking about Josh in the past tense was making her feel sick. “But,” she said, shakily, needing to ask the question even if she didn’t like the answer, “is - is it set in stone? I mean, is there no way to change things?”
Mandy looked ahead, squinting in the sunshine. “This is just one of several alternative futures, Donna. I can’t tell you for sure what happens in any of the others - this one is mine and is the one I’m supposed to show you. I can’t predict the future any more than you can. But maybe if Josh had had something - or someone - else in his life to focus that not inconsiderable energy of his on, it would have provided a better balance and eased the pressure.”
Donna felt a tiny spark of hope beginning to flicker in her chest. “So, maybe if - ”
The spirit shrugged, non-commitally, and started to walk towards the path. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Donna set off after her. “But surely - ”
“I told you, I don’t have a crystal ball.”
“Yes, but - ”
“Donna,” Mandy said, a little exasperatedly, “I really can’t tell you any more. And,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “now we have to move on.”
Donna knew there was no point in trying to glean anything further. It appeared the spirits were on a schedule and there was no messing with it, so she touched the sleeve of her companion’s robe and closed her eyes…
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The room she found herself in now was unfamiliar. It was obviously a bedroom, quite large and airy, tastefully decorated, very tidy - in fact, she thought, it was maybe just a little too tidy for her tastes. It looked comfortable, sure, but there was something a bit impersonal about it.
She walked to the window and looked out - but that offered her no clue as to where she was. She could see houses on the other side of the street, trees stripped bare and stark against the gray winter skies. She pulled back and looked around the room once more, then hearing the sound of a muffled voice drifting up from below she walked cautiously to the door, opened it and went out onto the landing.
“I just didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be alone, not now, not after…” Her mother’s voice floated up to her as Donna sat down at the top of the stairs where she could see Marjorie standing in the hallway, talking on the phone.
“I’m staying for a few days. I know that’s going to mean I’m not home for Christmas, but we’ll have to manage.”
Donna was puzzled. Why wasn’t her mother going to be at home for Christmas? And more to the point, what was she doing here and whose house was this?
“No, I know, but I’m sure they’ll understand.”
If her mother was here, then -
“It’s yours.” Mandy’s voice, coming from just behind her, made Donna jump.
“I know Mrs Landingham said it was your job to startle people, but do you have to take that so literally?”
Mandy pouted. “But that’s the fun part.”
Donna just shook her head and turned back to look down at her mother. “This is my house?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Does that matter right now?”
“Well, no, not really, I guess,
Marjorie finished her conversation and replaced the receiver, then walked into one of the rooms off the hall. Donna stood and had walked back up to the landing when she heard a door slam, and saw herself, dressed in jeans and a pale blue sweater carrying two dusty, yet familiar looking cardboard boxes, come through another door and begin to make her way up the stairs.
“Donna?” Her mother’s voice, issuing from somewhere off the hall made the Donna carrying the boxes stop. “Yeah?”
Marjorie’s head appeared around the door. “I’m making some tea - would you like some?”
“Uh, I - yes please,” the other Donna said carelessly, clearly wanting to prevent any attempt at a conversation on her mother’s part as she continued to climb the stairs.
Donna and the spirit followed her into the room they’d just come out of - and she was surprised when she realized it must be her own bedroom several years in the future. It just didn’t feel like her, somehow.
She watched herself put the boxes on the bed, toe off her shoes and sit down slowly, one leg tucked underneath her. Hesitantly, the woman on the bed pulled open the first, smaller box, turned it upside down and emptied it, spreading the contents - photos and newspaper cuttings, mostly - out on the bed around her. Then she pulled the second box towards her and started to take out a few more things; some books, magazines, photo albums - and then, rummaging around in the bottom, she pulled out an old ID badge, one the Donna who was watching recognized instantly.
She found herself unable to tear her gaze from her older self as she began to look through the photographs. “When is this?” Donna whispered to the spirit, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer. “It’s - it’s after he… after Josh…” she swallowed, still unable to say the word, “isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Mandy, quietly. “Two weeks after, to be precise. Christmas Eve, 2012.”
“And this is why my mother doesn’t want me to be alone?”
“It is.”
“But if he… it happened two weeks ago, why this? Why now?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Donna looked at Mandy, her black robes settled around her as she sat casually in a chair in the corner of the room.
“That sounds ominous.”
“You didn’t want her to come. In fact, you expressly told her not to come. But she’s your mother. She saw through the crap you were feeding her about being fine and being too busy at work and turned up on the doorstep yesterday.”
Donna bridled a little at that - but then she remembered the conversation she’d had with her mother earlier that evening, how she’d been impatient for it to be over, how she’d wanted to avoid spending a lot of time with her family over the holidays… and realized that it wasn’t such a great leap from that, to the way she apparently behaved towards her mother in the future..
Donna moved closer to the bed and sat on the edge, trying to get used to the fact that she was looking over her own shoulder as her older self sorted through the photographs. She was clearly looking for something specific, although every so often, her gaze would linger on one or other of them before she put them back into the box. Donna hadn’t looked at most of these photos for ages; there were quite a lot, dating from early on the first campaign to the second inauguration and beyond, quite a few of them of her and Josh - at official functions, or informal gatherings, or even just on nights out with CJ, Toby and Sam. Sometimes, it was just the two of them in the picture, in others they were part of a group shot, but in nearly all of them, they were standing or sitting next to each other. Some shots were posed and they’d both be beaming at the camera, and in others they’d been caught off guard, sitting together quietly, in mid conversation or some other informal situation. The other Donna was now looking at one of those, taken, by the looks of it, on the night of the second Inauguration. In it, Donna was sitting at a table, talking to Toby, while Josh stood with one hand resting on the back of her chair. Donna had looked at that photo many, many times and yet… somehow, she’d missed the soft smile on Josh’s face as he looked down at her. The memories of that night welled up suddenly; the bad cops, the snowballs, the way it had felt to be in Josh’s arms when they’d finally managed to dance together … lost in her thoughts, Donna started at the sound of a sharp intake of breath. She’d been so busy looking at the photographs that she hadn’t been looking at herself; and when she did so now, she could see that the woman next to her was crying silently, the hand pressed to her mouth stifling the strangled sobs that were wracking her body.
Donna found herself getting choked up, too and took a couple of deep breaths to stave off the impending tears. “Didn’t she - I mean, I … didn’t I see him again after..?”
“After you left?”
Donna nodded, her eyes still trained on the woman sitting by her on the bed.
“Just once, the following year, but that was it. And before you ask, I can’t tell you any more about that, so there’s no point asking me. Oh, and by the way, you should remember the date,” Mandy said coldly. “It’s the last time you ever cry.”
Donna turned to look at her incredulously. “What?”
Mandy shrugged. “It’s true. One last time before you go back into your little cocoon.”
Donna just glared at her.
“Hey - none of this is my fault. It’s all down to you, so don’t get pissy with me.”
Scowling, Donna turned back to look at the woman seated on the bed. She was no longer sobbing quite so violently and was now studying another photo, one Donna remembered had been taken around last Christmas, during the tree-lighting ceremony at the White House. She and Josh were standing together, slightly apart from the main group of onlookers. He was leaning in to say something to her - probably to tease her some more about her present; their heads were almost touching, his dimples were out in full force and her eyes were shining, reflecting the bright lights that were encircling the majestic Norwegian fir.
Then suddenly, it was as though a switch had flipped, and the older Donna cleared her throat a couple of times before she began throwing the photographs and cuttings back into the box, fiercely. She had almost finished packing them away when there was a knock on the bedroom door, and her mother appeared, bearing the promised cup of tea.
Marjorie set the cup down on the bedside table, and bent to pick up a couple of stray photographs from the floor.
“These are nice,” she commented, before handing them back to her daughter, who immediately consigned them to the box with the others. “I don’t remember seeing those before.” She moved to the other side of the bed - and Donna sprang up, realizing that her mother was about to sit in the exact spot she was currently occupying.
Mandy sniggered. “She can’t see you or touch you, you know.”
Donna glared at her and walked over to perch on the arm of her chair. “I do know,” she hissed. “But the idea of my mother sitting on me - through me… whatever - is just a little too weird.”
The spirit shrugged and Donna turned her attention back to the two women sitting on the bed.
“Donna,” Marjorie began, watching her daughter throwing things haphazardly back into the box, “I know this is a … difficult time for you, and I don’t mean to interfere - but I’m worried about you.”
Donna didn’t look up. She finished packing away the pictures and other things into the box and reached for the lid. “You needn’t be,” she said flatly. “I’m fine.”
Her mother laid a hand on her arm. “You’re not,” she persisted, gently. “This isn’t right. Josh was a big part of your life, and while I know you parted on… less than amicable terms, it wasn’t always like that. Yet you wouldn’t go to the funeral. Mrs. Lyman called a couple of times and you wouldn’t speak to her.”
“I just - I didn’t want to.”
“It’s unlike you.”
Donna rounded on her, suddenly. “How the hell do you know what’s like me and what isn’t, mom?”
Marjorie’s initial look of shock was quickly replaced by an almost glacial expression.
“I know this isn’t you, Donna,” she said, firmly. “Or at least it used not to be. You’ve got your high-powered job and a nice house and an expensive car, but I can’t remember the last time you ever talked about a friend. I can’t remember the last time you went out on a date, or were interested in anyone. Whatever happened between you and Josh all those years ago, that’s when this,” she waved a hand around emphatically, “all started. What on earth did he do to you to turn you into this - this… empty shell?”
“What did he do?” Donna jumped off the bed, her hands balled tightly into fists at her side. “He took me for granted, is what he did! He took me for granted, he stifled my career, he - ”
“Oh, for God’s sake Donna, just listen to yourself! The man’s dead and you wouldn’t go to his funeral because he wouldn’t give you a damn promotion?!”
“No! I didn’t go because it would have meant saying -” she broke off suddenly and covered her face with her hands, sinking back down onto the bed, sucking in long, ragged breaths.
“It would have meant saying goodbye,” Marjorie said perceptively, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared as she sat down and pulled her daughter into a hug.
Donna nodded.
Mother and daughter sat silently for a long time. Then Donna pulled back from the hug and pulled out a few tissues from the box beside the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled, blowing her nose.
“You don’t have to apologize, dear.” Marjorie stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed, idly turning over a couple of the books and magazines that were still strewn around.
Donna just sniffed again, reached for another tissue and wiped her eyes.
The younger Donna, sitting quietly with the spirit, swallowed hard. “I’ve seen enough,” she croaked. “Are we done here?”
Mandy looked up at her, her expression almost apologetic. “Not quite.”
“Please, I don’t think I can bear -” Donna began, stopping suddenly when she saw her mother pick up a book from the bed and turn it over gently in her hands.
“’The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing’?”
The Donna sitting on the bed blew her nose again. “Yeah. I’d been teasing Josh about wanting skiing equipment for Christmas one year… and he gave me that.”
“An unusual gift.”
“I guess it was. But then again, it wasn’t really.” She smiled, ruefully. “Josh has,” she sucked in a breath, “had - this incredible way of doing or saying just the right thing at just the right time. Of course, he also had an incredible knack for saying or doing exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time - but this wasn’t one of those.”
Marjorie smiled and opened the book.
“Well …” she breathed, after a moment or two.
“What?”
“The inscription. It’s beautiful. I didn’t realize he …”
Donna smiled wanly. “I know. I had no idea he could write so - elegantly, either.”
Marjorie looked up. “No, I meant I hadn’t realized he felt that way about you back then.”
Donna frowned. “What way?”
Marjorie held out the book. “Look at what he’s written, Donna,” she said gently. “I’d defy any man to write something like that to a woman he didn’t care for, deeply.”
Donna took it, the puzzled frown still creasing her brow as she opened the book at the flyleaf and read silently. When she’d finished, she closed it slowly, and sat looking at the cover for a minute or two, running her thumb gently over the embossed lettering of the title.
Then she cleared her throat and looked up at her mother, her composure regained, her expression carefully blank. To the Donna looking on, it felt as though the woman she and her spirit companion had been watching had disappeared and been replaced by a different person, because the atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly to have changed completely.
“Well, it’s too late for that now,” the older Donna said impassively, reaching for the second of the boxes and putting the book in the bottom.
Marjorie may have been rendered temporarily speechless, but the expression of dismay on her face spoke volumes as she watched her daughter stand up and, without looking at any of it, put everything else back into the box.
“It took me a while,” Donna said, putting on the lid, “but I got over him.”
Marjorie shook her head. “You never got over Josh, Donna,” she said, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You just learned to exist without him.” She stood and walked to the door. “Because what you’re doing isn’t living.”
Donna said nothing. She stacked the boxes one on top of the other, picked them up and walked over to a large closet in the corner of the room. Her mother watched sadly for a few minutes, as Donna set the boxes on the floor of the closet and pushed them underneath the bottom shelf, as far back as they would go.
“Drink your tea before it gets cold,” Marjorie said flatly, and left, closing the door firmly behind her.
Mandy stood, shaking out her robes. “Come on. We’ve got another stop to make.”
Donna was still watching herself as she moved around the bedroom, almost unable to believe that this calm, collected person was the same woman who’d succumbed to such raw emotion just a few moments earlier.
And even more unnerving - the thought that she could be this woman in six more years? Someone who had schooled her emotions to such an extent that it was possible to, metaphorically speaking, put a lid on even the strongest of them and put them away at the back of a closet at will?
“That’s a nice allegory, but it’s more than that, you know.”
Donna’s head snapped up. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”
The spirit shrugged. “I’m supposed to do that, it’s my job. And it’s not just that you trained yourself not to show your feelings; you started to train yourself not to have any. And after today, you’re finally able to stop the training part, because it’s ingrained. There have been times over the past six years when you showed that you had a little chink in your armor - not many, it’s true, but a few nonetheless, but this is the last time. You filled in that gap today.”
“So… that’s it?”
“That’s up to you, don’t you think?”
Donna stood, wearily. “I’m too shattered to think. I just want to go home.”
Mandy smirked. “And I thought we were getting along so well.”
“We’d get along better if you let me go home.”
“Sorry.” She held out her arm. “Let’s go.”
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Part Five