Hush

My long sandy waves bounced on my shoulders as my grandmother’s little old car roughed over the lonely gravel road. Looking out into the emerald fields that lay on top the uneven Irish turf, I leaned against the cold surface of the backseat window day dreaming of my new life there. Early summer showers sprinkled the soils all the while humming a soothing rhythmic tune on the tin roof of the car. Tiny crystal drops of the mountain’s silent tears raced across the windowsill, only to be dried with a rainbow.

“Susan always loved the beach at night,” my grandmother, Elise, mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. I saw my mother, young and lively, before she was ever sick, dancing and splashing in the crashing moonlit waves. The happiness of this serene vision made me smile, and hope that she was smiling down at me too.

The car came to a halt and the jerking exploded the thought cloud in which the picture played. I tuned to glance outside and there it was, exactly the way my mother portrayed her childhood home to me with bedtime stories; the little yellow cottage with unpainted shutters stood short and stout. Vividly colored wildflowers swayed tall, and tangled vines covered one side of the house.

Behind the house was a rocky beach scattered with large mossy boulders and water so clear one could see straight to the bottom. A little ways in the distance, an old vacant lighthouse sat on the corner of the peninsula over looking the sea. Its rustic elegance caught my interest right away.

“Lillian,” Elise interrupted as she opened my door, “Are ya' gonna' just sit there all day?”

“Er, uh, no. Sorry,” I stumbled over my words.

When I stepped out of the car, my surroundings lit up around me. I felt a renewed sense of adventure; the world was my playground.

“Ya alright dear?” Grandma asked with her silver eyebrows in a troublesome knot on her forehead. Her thick accent made me giggle.

“I’m fine, Nana; just tired, that’s all. It was a really long trip over here.”

She looked at me, curious eyes wondering, but once she detected my sincerity, a wide grin grew back on her face and I could see her bubbly personality shine through once more. Her frail little body pranced over to the back of the car and lifted open the trunk door. With ease, she yanked one of my suitcases out and marched to the door. I grabbed my other suitcase and followed quickly behind.

“It’s beautiful,” I said in awe.

“Tisn’t much, dear, but it’s home, and it has been for fifty years. It’s a sturdy little house, for sure,” she rambled.

My grandmother was like a chiwahwah; so small, and adorable, but always yapping about something. Once at the door, she wiggled her little foot up and kicked it open.

“Home at last,” she sighed.

My hazel eyes pondered the newly uncovered living room. The walls were bone white, though they were hardly visible under the endless old photographs, empty picture frames, and antique mirrors that covered the walls. Two cream covered day sofas with bronze Victorian embroidery were plopped at an open angle in the front.

On the far end of the house were four huge windows that framed the uncanny view. Beside them was a white rod iron table set with two matching floral chairs.

“Your room is this way,” Elise creaked open a wooden door revealing what I assumed was my bedroom.

A fluffy white goose down comforter and dark purple pillows were placed on a large wooden canopy bed was against the celery painted walls. A huge brown trunk with random postcard stickers was tucked in the corner. Above it hung an antique oval mirror with little age cracks on the edges.

I ran to the bed and dived on, laughing.

“Sorry it’s probably not what you’re used to back in California,” she added.

“No, it’s lovely. I couldn’t ask for more!” I smiled.

“Glad,” she yawned, “I’ll go take me a little nap.”

I nodded, “Alright. Do you mind me exploring a little while it’s light outside?”

“Sure, Lilly,” she said and pulled the door shut behind her.

I slid off the bed and retrieved my suitcases from where we had placed them by the doorway. Then, I laid them strewn open on the hardwood floor. I grabbed a white lace sleeveless top, a dark pair of jeans, and some black maroon gladiator type sandals. I quickly changed out of my sweatpants and put on my new outfit. Once dressed, I tip toed out the door, careful not to disturb Elise.

At five o’clock in the afternoon, the sun was at its last hour of illuminating the waters, sparkling like diamonds. The relaxing aroma of freshly dampened land roamed all around the air. I piddled around the boulders down the beach; destination in mind.

Looking up at the lighthouse, I noticed a sudden flash of movement. It was like the ruffle of a humming bird’s wing or the bat of an eyelash. It sent a sense of tired devotion down my spine; a relentless romance acheing in my heart.

Mindlessly, I pulled open the door and floated in. With each step I took up the spiraling staircase, I felt more eager and excited.

One more step, I thought.

“Oh,” I gasped under my breath. A boy, slightly older than I, watched the darkening cloudless sky above. A head of dark hair sat on a lovely pale profile..

“Hello?” I mumbled. “Sorry to bother you, I didn’t think anyone was up here.”

He whipped around and darted his sapphire eyes at me. Then, he stopped and stared at my with a look of disbelief.

“Anabelle?” he whispered so quiet, I barely understood what he had said.

“I-I’m Lillian,” stuttered. Confusion stuck me as I felt a deep sense of familiarity in his face. “Have we met?” I asked.

Ignoring my question, he introduced himself, “Forgive me. I’m Tristan.”

“What are you doing up here?” I wondered. “I mean, I thought this lighthouse was supposed to be abandoned.”

He simply said, “I’m waiting,” with a content grin.

“For what?” I asked.

After moments of no response, he noted, “You look very much like her, ya’ know.”

“Who?” I retaliated.

“Anabelle,” he whispered, though not as quiet as before.

My heartbeat quickened until it was nearly beating out of my chest, and I found it more and more difficult to breath. “What?” I choked.

“No two worlds can keep us apart,” he said softly. He came to me; his lips at my ear. His icy breath shivered down my spine. He breathed, “Forever, my love.” Still as marble, he placed something cold in my hand, and clenched it shut.

For the length of a dozen heartbeats, I felt his wispy being at my side, but suddenly, the air was still. I looked around me for him, but Tristan was not there.

I opened my hand, and inside was an old silver locket with a cursive capital ‘A’ engraved in the front. I attempted to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. I clasped it behind my neck and tucked it in my shirt.

“Hello?” I called, “Tristan?” I searched for him, but never was there an answer.

Panicking, I nearly threw myself down the staircase, stumbling over every few steps. I burst through the door, and ran as fast as I possibly could from the place just an hour ago, I had loved. Before passing through the front door, I had to breathe.

After one, deep breath and a little calming down, Grandma announced, “Potatoes fer’ dinner!”

I took one last shaky breath, and went inside.

---

Our forks scraped at the food on our china plates.

“Find any treasure chests out there?” Elise joked after a gulp of sweet tea.

“I went in the lighthouse,” I answered frankly.

Her porcelain chin slowly rose to look up at me. I looked down at my plate, but as I did so, the locket fell out of my shirt.

Wide eyed, she asked, “Where did you get that?”

“I-I found it there.”

“Don’t lie to me child. Where did you find that locket?” she asked sternly.

I had never seen my sweet little Nana act like this before. In shock, I gave in quickly.

"There was a boy. He was my age. He gave it to me," I spilled. She looked distressed, so I apologized, "I'm sorry I lied, Grandma."

She closed her eyes and shook her head, "Let me see it."

Immediately, I unclasped it from around my neck and set it down beside her plate. I didn't understand what was the matter.

She picked up the locket and opened it with ease, which was a surprise in itself for I hadn't been able to pry it open even if I had had a hammer. She drew in a long, deep breath through her nose and sqeezed her eyelids shut. I single salty tear ran down her cheek.

"Tell me about this boy," she mumbled.

"Well, he was tall, very pale, dark hair, eyes the color of sapphires-"

She interrupted, "His name, Lillian, what was his name?" she demanded; more harshly.

"Tristan," I blurted out.

She let out a sob of obvious agony, and covered her face with her tiny frail hand. "What did he say?"

"He said he's waiting there for someone named Anabelle. His exact words were, 'No two worlds can keep us apart.' Whatever that means. He gave me this locket and just disappeared."

"I knew he would wait," she sighed.

"I don't understand. None of this makes sense."

"I was in love, Lillian," she explained as she looked up at me, "I was only a year older than you when I fell madly in love with a sailor, Tristan Von Tessla.
"Our families shunned our young love; they claimed it wasn't real. And, that's the case for most seventeen year olds. But not us. Our love was irrevocable and irreplacable. There was nothing anyone could say or do to change it. When it became impossible to live happily together at home, we realized that we had to get away. He arranged an 'escape' per say, to no where imparticular. We packed up our things, and hid them in that lighthouse until the night he would pick me up there, and we would sail away into the night, and start our new life.
"However, things didn't go as planned. The night there of, I stayed at the top of the lighthouse, looking out, waiting for him to return. Though, he never did. I waited all night until finally a friend of his in town came searching for me with news of a shipwreck; one with no survivors. Another ship had found Tristan's only half way above the sea line, but it was too late. Tristan had already drown in the freezing artic waters. The news of his death shattered my life into a million irreparable pieces.
"I let go of everything that reminded me of him, just to make the pain less noticable. It was my own sort of pain medicine; the pain was still there, just covered up. I tossed my locket into the sea, and even started going by my middle name instead; Anabelle Elise McBrosia. I never dared return to the lighthouse, but now I can't help but think that maybe I would have had one last chance to say goodbye," she paused, "Thank you."

I tried to protest, but the words wouldn't leave my tongue. I had all the pieces, but they didn't seem to fit. How was any of that possible? It made no sense. Then, the phrase 'unfinished business' came to mind, and everything came together. I know knew exactly what he meant by 'no two worlds'. He had been at the lighthouse, only in a different sense that I was. A single word tickled at my throat, daring to be heard aloud. I whispered, "Ghost."


XO, Her