Good Spirits by B.K. Borison - 39

I stare at the candle in my window, the flickering flame reflected in the glass. A deep goldenrod yellow that burns orange, the dancing flame steady and sure.

This candle has been burning since I first lit it weeks ago—day and night—the last remaining bit of magic Nolan left behind. The wick hasn’t worn down. The wax hasn’t melted. I’ve come and gone and still, the candle burns. It shines bright in my window, calling lost sailors home, just as Nolan’s mom used to do.

Except my sailor isn’t coming home.

That’s the problem, I think. I need to stop thinking of Nolan’s home as somewhere with me. This was never his home to begin with. He was never mine. This was just a stop before something better.

A lesson, maybe, for the both of us.

“It’s just a candle,” I tell myself. I fist my hands in the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “You won’t forget him if it’s out.”

I can’t keep going like this. Every time I look at the candle, it feels like a sucker punch through the middle of my heart. I miss him. I want him. The candle just reminds me of everything I lost. Everything I no longer get to have.

I’ll make a wish. I’ll close my eyes, blow out the candle, and make a wish. Just as I used to do when I was a girl.

I bend forward, take a deep breath, and—

A knock pounds at my door, rattling at the hinges. I freeze, half an inch away from the flame. Hope is a wild, fickle thing. It bands tight around my middle, stealing my breath.

It couldn’t be.

It’s not possible.

I abandon the candle and trip my way over to the door, stumbling over the Christmas decorations I still refuse to pack away. My hand trembles. I yank at the knob and—

And I find myself nose to nose with Darryl, my wayward mailman. He grins, stepping backward on my porch. “Whoa there, Harriet.

Quite the welcome.”

I slouch against the frame and run a trembling hand across my forehead. I’ve told myself to stop wishing on stars for impossible things, but the second I’m given a chance, off I go again.

“Hi, Darryl.”

“Evening, Harry.” He adjusts his bag over his shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”

I nod. This is the problem with hope. It only ever leads to heartbreak.

And as it turns out, I am especially good at stretching out my heartache.

“I’m fine.” I drop my hand and try to fix a smile on my face. “What can I do for you?”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small cardboard box. “Got a package for ya.”

I frown. “You have a package for me at nine thirty-two at night?”

He nods. “Sure do!” He wiggles the cardboard box in front of me, something rattling around inside. It’s probably the little cup and saucer I pity-ordered for myself. The one with a tiny cupid shooting an arrow instead of a handle. I grab the box out of his hands before he can shake the damned thing into pieces. “I got turned around earlier today, but have no fear. I always deliver packages where they’re supposed to go.”

That is factually untrue, but I’m too tired to argue with him. “Well, thanks for bringing it by, Darryl. I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He rocks back on his heels, turns to leave, then pauses. I cross my arms over my chest and linger in the doorway, watching him on my little stone walkway. Behind him, the street is lit in softly glowing lamps. The stars, a bright blanket in the sky. “You sure you’re all right, Harry? You seem down in the dumps.”

“I am down in the dumps,” I answer with a laugh. “But it’s getting better. I think I’ve been holding on to things too tight. What’s that saying about if you love something, let it go ?”

Darryl frowns at me. “I always thought that was a dumb saying.” I laugh. “Yeah, me, too.” We both smile. “I’m going to be okay.”

“Of course you are.” He nods once. “I’ll be seeing you.”

I give him a little wave. “See you.”

I shut the door behind him and go back to my candle. I stare at the orange and gold flame. How the reflection makes it look like there are fifty candles, all in a row.

I am going to be okay. It might take some time, but maybe someday soon I’ll be able to think about Nolan without wishing we had a different ending. I don’t need to keep a candle in the window to hold on to all the good things he brought to my life.

So I close my eyes, think about the way his hand cupped the back of my neck, and I blow out the candle.

A knock sounds at my door.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling.

“Darryl, I swear to god.” I didn’t check the label before I discarded the package on my small entryway table. He probably delivered the wrong thing to the wrong house and wants to continue his late-night delivery special. I snatch the box and wedge it under my arm, swinging the door open.

Except it’s not Darryl.

Strong jaw. Broad body. His hands held loose at his sides. He steps closer and the light from the tree I still haven’t taken down hits his face.

His hair is dark. Lightly curled. Windswept and messy. Nolan smiles at me from my front porch, a little unsure.

“Hello, Harriet.”

I drop the box.

He swallows, looking nervous. His hand pushes through his hair in a move so achingly familiar I could cry. “You might not remember, but we’ve met before. I—”

I don’t wait for him to finish the rest of his sentence. I launch myself at him, my arms around his neck and my knees hugging at his hips. His arms snap around me immediately, tugging me higher against his chest, one hand fisting in my hair.

“I remember,” I say, my voice too high, my mouth busy pressing frantic kisses to his chin, his jaw, the little hollow beneath his ear. “Of course, I remember.”

“ Fuck ,” he whispers, emphatic, his face somewhere in my hair. “Harriet. God , Harriet. I’ve missed you.”

I laugh and sob at the same time, then squeeze at his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders. I twist the fabric of his flannel in my fist and hold on tight.

He’s here .

“What’s happening? Are you really here?” I blink furiously, trying to get rid of the tears. I want to see him clearly. I want to be sure. “Why didn’t you move on? Did something go wrong? Do I need to fix it?”

Nolan shakes his head and marches us forward into the house. He kicks the door shut behind us and tucks his body more firmly around mine, his chin on top of my head.

“I’m here,” he says against me and a shiver twists down my spine. How many nights did I fall asleep to the fantasy of exactly those words, whispered exactly like that? “I’m here, Harriet. This is real.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, my words thick as I sob my way through them.

“Aye, I’m sure.” He pulls away from me, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. His smile is tender. His eyes are warm. He looks different, somehow. Like he finally got a good rest. Like he found exactly what he was looking for. “There’s nothing for you to fix. I moved on, just like I wanted.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“I was given a choice. Two doors to walk through. One would move me forward to a place of rest and peace. And the other—”

He pauses. I study his face, my eyes searching. “The other?” I ask. A smile starts at one side of his mouth and slowly unfurls until his dimples wink to life beneath his scruff. The lines by his eyes deepen.

“And the other would return me to the woman I love,” he rasps.

A broken sound cracks out of me. I drop my forehead to his chest and start to cry in earnest. “I don’t understand.”

He sifts his hands through my hair, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he rubs at my back. “I don’t think we need to understand.” He rocks us back and forth. “It was you, Harriet. You are the one I’ve been waiting for. You were never supposed to move me forward, you were supposed to hold me here. Keep me tethered.” He presses his forehead to mine. “It was always supposed to be you.”

I feel like I’m caught in a dream. Like I’m going to wake up suddenly in my bed, all alone. I want to believe him so badly , but I’m afraid.

“Could you kiss me?” I ask, my cheeks still wet with my tears. I don’t know how to stop crying. “Can you kiss me so I know this isn’t—”

Nolan cups my jaw and drags my mouth to his, kissing me like his life depends on it. And in a way, I suppose it does. He came from another time to love me, and I’ve been waiting to love him in return. That’s what this hollow ache in my chest has been about.

We just had to find each other.

His calloused hands catch in my hair and tug roughly as he gets carried away, kissing me harder. Licking into my mouth, pushing me forward, knocking me into the wall with a dull thud.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against my mouth when my head bumps up against a light fixture. He runs his palm over my hair. Gets distracted and wraps it around his fist.

“Don’t be sorry,” I breathe. “Kiss me again.”

I’m not dreaming.

This is real.

He came back to me.

He’s mine . Someone I can have. Someone I get to keep.

We kiss until I’m dizzy with it. Until I don’t know what time it is or where we are.

When he finally pulls away, his lips are swollen and his eyes are bright.

“What happens now?” I ask, tracing the rare proof of his happiness. I lean up and drop a kiss against his jaw. Because I can. Because I never thought I’d be able to again.

Nolan grins, so breathtaking I almost start crying again. Or maybe I’m still crying. I don’t know.

He leans forward so the words are whispered against my mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harriet.” He brushes a kiss to my bottom lip, the dip in my chin, the hollow of my throat. His hand finds my jaw and he holds me steady. “I’ll see you the tomorrow after that, and the one after that, and the one after that.”

He punctuates each statement with a kiss, his scruff tickling at my skin. When he pulls back, he holds my face between his hands, gazing at me with tender, aching longing. Deep, sure possession.

“I’ll be with you for every tomorrow you allow, and I suspect a time after that, too.”

I curl my hands around his wrists, holding on. “Are you sure?” He nods. “The unfinished business I have is with you, Harriet York. You better get used to having me around.”

I sniffle. “Haunting me?”

“No.” He smiles. “Loving you.”

If you fell in love with Harriet and Nolan, please leave a review for Good Spirits here !