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<br><br>Ruskin House is thoroughly haunted. Its presiding genius is Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury who is my phantom partner.

Anthony is over two hundred years old and still going strong, albeit a little more rarefied than in his heyday in the mid nineteenth century.

Jeannie Church, his secretary, is also a territorial spirit who can manifest materially as long as she remains within certain physical limits.

 I intend to explore those boundaries not only because I’m enthralled with her beauty, but also because I suspect she’s my soul mate.

<br><br>As for me, I’m Grant Preston, the living representative of the organization Anthony funded to continue the philanthropic work he began in life and intends to carry on even after his eventual demise.

Today I’m sitting in Anthony’s secret sanctum while he outlines a new project he wants me to undertake.

 

<br><br>“You want me to preserve a cemetery?” I croak.

“Not just any cemetery, my boy, but a pioneer cemetery dating back to the early nineteenth century. It's for a reason that’s dear to my heart.”

“No wonder,” I quipped, “ you probably have some friends resting there.”

<br><br>Anthony grew somber. “I have one dear love resting there. I met her in Dorset and I proposed to her, but her family was staunch Methodist and wouldn’t hear of her marrying a member of the Church of England. They sent her to Canada to live with relatives and she perished in a church fire on the property where the graveyard now stands.”

“I’m so sorry, Anthony—I had no idea.”

“It’s understandable, Grant—it’s part of the reason I accompanied Alfred New to Canada and set up Ruskin House here, in memory of Catherine Lyons—the only woman I ever loved.”

<br><br>“But surely you can contact the deceased, Anthony? After all, you’re a ghost.”

“No, my boy—it doesn’t work that way. In choosing to remain tied to this sphere, I forsook a great deal—particularly, spending eternity with her.”

For the first time it dawned on me the extent of the sacrifice Anthony made in order to carry on his philanthropic work in this realm.

<br><br>“I’m honored to be chosen by you to pursue this matter, Sir—I promise I’ll give it my utmost diligence.”

“I’m sure you will, Grant—but take along Jeannie with you. I’m sure her particular talents will come in handy when dealing with Ross Sterling, a local contractor who wants to move the cemetery and build a shopping mall on the site.”

I hesitated. “Um, can Jeannie venture outside the limits of our Victorian village? She told me she had allotted boundaries.”

Anthony nodded. “She does have limits, but to date those specific boundary lines aren’t clearly drawn. How will we know her boundaries if we don’t test them?”

“Good point,” I conceded.

“Besides,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “you need to see what latitudes you can take with her, if you intend to marry her.”

“Another point well taken, Sir,” I blushed as I exited his office.

 

<br><br>“Of course I’ll go with you, Grant. 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?”

<br><br>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.

 

<br><br>The next day we set off to meet with Ross Sterling and 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.

<br><br>“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.”

<br><br>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.

<br><br><center>© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

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