The Wildflower and the Poltergeist

∙ peace ∙

The poltergeist's heart was aflutter when he heard the sound of his own name—Luke. Of course, that's was he was called. In that moment, he heard the sound of a thousand bells softly ringing in his ears, and he knew that he wasn't mistaken. 'Luke' was the name that had been bestowed upon him by the heavens when his mother held him close to her heart and stared into his eyes for the first time. How could he have forgotten?

Now that he knew his name, everything he touched and saw had an odd sense of clarity to it. It was true what Old Paul said—nothing could compare to finding your peace before you went on the afterlife. Everything, including Abigail, had a purpose in his eyes. He felt as though he was as light as a feather. He was a burden to no one—he was a free soul that wandered through the world of the living with a heart full of love.

"Luke," Abigail echoed as the ghost's heartbeat quickened. All of a sudden, his joyful heart was filled with woe—for the first time, he yearned for the affections of another person. Abby smiled sweetly as her freckled nose wrinkled a little. "You have a knack for giving your children good names," she said, even though she felt a pang of pain in her chest upon remembering Martha's daughter. Martha giggled delightfully, "Why, thank you."

Abby sighed and slowly settled back into her bed. "You know, I bet you and Luke would have been really good friends if you two met each other," Martha said with a small, sad smile.

The ghost failed to suppress a childish grin from slowly creeping up his face upon hearing his mother's remark. "Really?" Abby seemed excited enough by the idea of meeting him. "Yeah, he used to send me postcards every month. Ah, I actually have a picture of him on my phone," Martha spoke of her son with immeasurable enthusiasm. It was clear to Abby that she was very proud of her son, and she felt sorry for Martha—she had lost both of her children, all of her children. Abby wondered if her foster parents ever felt that way—if they were ever genuinely proud of her and who she was, not just the way they raised her to be.

Martha narrowed her eyes at her phone's screen and scrunched up her face. "Where did my gallery go?" A finger hovered above the screen before she finally tapped it once and smiled. "Ah, here you go," Martha held her phone in front of Abby's face and smiled. Luke, her son, looked a great deal like Elise, or maybe it should've been the other way around since he was the elder child. He was standing in front of a gigantic Christmas tree with an older man—his father, perhaps—and was smiling from ear to ear. The ghost remembered when this photograph was taken—it was on December 22nd from six years ago, his father's last Christmas. He seemed so happy in the picture, but he was already struggling at that time.

"Your son is quite the looker," Abby offered politely—it was the same compliment a middle-aged neighbor would give upon seeing another woman's mildly good-looking son. That's how the ghost thought anyway, so he took it lightly. When a smile akin to sunshine touched Abby's small mouth, however, a pinkish-red tint colored the ghost's pale cheeks. It was ridiculous, he thought, how he had been taught by professionals to suppress as much of his emotions as he can, yet here he was—blushing like a school girl who received her very first love letter.

It wasn't her words that moved him, really, it was her smile. For a moment, it terrified him how much she affected him without even trying.

Martha smiled, "I know. I wonder where he got his good looks..." she said, giving Abby a suggestive look. From me, she was saying on the inside. Abby understood what she meant, and she laughed. "He got it from his father, it seems."

Martha frowned and gave her a gently shove. "After all we've been through, Abby..." Martha said dramatically, concluding her statement with a heavy, forlorn sigh. Abigail laughed and apologized for 'betraying' her, and Martha laughed along with her. The ghost cupped a hand over his heart and smiled, staring at the breathtaking masterpiece the universe had painted for him. He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of eternity—the time the universe allowed him a taste of heaven.