A Romantic Ghost Story

A ROMANTIC GHOST STORY

  by

  Jason W. Chan

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  A Romantic Ghost Story

  Copyright 2011 by Jason W. Chan

  ***

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book shall be reproduced, stored or transmitted by any means, except with the written permission of the author, unless for brief quotations in reviews.

  ***

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Jill and Florence, my beta readers. I couldn’t do it without your support.

  ***

  A Message from the Author

  I hope you will enjoy reading A Romantic Ghost Story.

  After you’re done, I have a few tiny favors to ask of you:

  1. Please post the link to this ebook on your facebook and twitter and other social media networks.

  If you liked this story, please write a review for it, on whichever site you found it.

  Please like its page on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Romantic-Ghost-Story/347390105277211

  This last part is the most important: please recommend it to as many friends as possible. Thank you for helping me spread the word.

  Please email me if you have any feedback: [email protected]

  Visit my blog where I have in-depth discussions about some of my favorite love stories: www.jasonwchan.blogspot.com

  If you liked this novel, I would recommend my other ebooks, such as Hiding In His Dreams, Meet Me at Taylor Park, and The Patter of the Spring Rain, all love stories.

  Thanks for supporting me.

  Always Yours,

  Jason W. Chan

  ***

  Synopsis: Trapped on Earth and forced to marry a demon, Nancy is a spirit about to give up her dreams of success in Hollywood when a brave young man returns her faith to her, and makes her believe in love again. A Romantic Ghost Story is about the all-powerful, redemptive nature of love and how it could change someone’s world.

  Novella Length: 27,000 Words

  ***

  “The only thing that survives death is love.”

  ***

  Prologue

  The Present

  Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

  In the Macedonian-Canadian Care Home in Vancouver, Canada, 93 year-old Nancy lay dying in her bed, gasping for air.

  A doctor and a nurse stood outside her room, deep in conversation.

  The nurse turned to the doctor. “Does she have any family?”

  The doctor nodded. “Yes. A son and two daughters. But they’re scattered all over the world. She’s predeceased by her husband. Has been for ten years.” He checked his patient file. “Her granddaughter, Serena, lives in Vancouver though.”

  The nurse nodded. “I’ll notify her right away.”

  The doctor entered the room and approached Nancy. “Are you in any pain?”

  Nancy took a deep breath, her breathing stabilizing. She shook her head, her long white hair spilling over her pillow.

  She grabbed onto the young physician’s hand. “Doctor, you can be honest with me. Am I near death?”

  Smiling nervously, the doctor put a comforting hand on her bony wrist. “Death? Who said anything about death?”

  Nancy coughed.

  The doctor put on his best sympathetic face. “Let’s just say that you are. Would you be afraid, Nancy?”

  Nancy shook her head, coughing again. “No, not at all. I’m going to see Ryan again. Why would I be afraid?” Her voice was surprisingly calm for a dying woman.

  The doctor looked uncertain. “I can give you some morphine if you’d like.”

  “I said I’m not in any pain,” Nancy insisted. “It’s just a cough. It’s just pneumonia.”

  “But with your advanced age, pneumonia could be fatal.”

  Nancy shrugged. “So it is. That doesn’t matter. I know what’s awaiting me. I’ve been dead before.”

  Again, the doctor played dumb. “Who said anything about death?”

  The nurse re-entered the room.

  Then, realizing what Nancy had said, the doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been dead before?”

  The two medical personnel exchanged amused glances.

  “Oh yes. Once. But then a boy saved me and I got to live again,” said Nancy, scrunching up her wrinkled face in fond remembrance.

  The nurse whispered to the doctor. “Is she on any medication that could cause hallucinatory side effects?”

  “No,” the doctor said. “She’s not on any medication. She even refused morphine.”

  Having overheard, Nancy exclaimed, “Why would I need any medication? I’m not in pain. If I’m dying, the best part is I get to see Ryan again. It’s been 76 years since I last saw him.”

  The nurse leaned closer to the doctor. “Who is this Ryan?”

  “I don’t know.” He scrutinized her patient file. “Ryan’s not mentioned in her profile.”

  Although they were talking about her as if she were not in the room, Nancy was oblivious.

  “Of course not,” said Nancy, folding her hands and putting them on her stomach. “I was never married to him. But he was the greatest love of my life.”

  At that point, a woman with messy dark poked her head in the room. “Grandma?”

  Nancy’s smile grew wider. “Serena! You came to visit me!”

  Before Serena could enter the room, the doctor and the nurse stepped through the doorway and closed the door.

  The doctor looked grave. “Thanks for coming, Serena. Your grandmother’s near death.”

  Serena bit her lips. “How long does she have?”

  “I’m not sure. A few hours. Or a few days.” He took off his glasses and lowered his voice. “You have to understand that patients near death sometimes display incoherent behavior or babble non-sense. If your grandmother does either of that, just know that it’s normal.”

  Serena nodded.

  “I’ve also decided not to tell her she’s dying,” the physician continued. “She’s such a cheerful old lady. I don’t how she’d react.

  Serena wondered what kind of bit-two retirement home this was. “Doesn’t she deserve to hear the truth?”

  The doctor nodded. “You’re a family member. You can tell her if you want.”

  The doctor and nurse then exchanged worried glances.

  Serena’s expression grew quizzical. “What is it? You can tell me.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Your grandmother has claimed to have been dead before. Do you know of any near-death experiences that she’s had?”

  Serena scratched her head. “Not that I know of.”

  The doctor nodded. “Do you know anyone named Ryan in her life?”

  “No,” replied Serena. “No one with that name.”

  The doctor indicated Nancy’s room. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it then. Just break it to her gently.”

  The doctor and nurse left, leaving Serena to her thoughts. Grandma was the most sensible person she knew. It was breaking her heart that she was breaking down mentally.

  She opened the door and walked in. “Grandma?”

  Nancy held out her hands, grinning. “Serena.”

  Serena grabbed her grandmother’s cold hands and sat down on the bed, a tearful expression on her pretty face. “The doctor said that you said that you’ve been dead before.”

  Nancy shrugged. “I have. That’s why I’m not afraid of it.”

  Serena tightened her grip on her grandmother’s hands. She had been warned that Nancy would babble nonsense.

  “Was it a near death experience?” she asked.

  “No,” answered Nancy, her expression serious. “It was a complete death experience.”

&n
bsp; Serena looked baffled.

  Nancy shifted in her position on the bed. “Listen, honey. That doctor and nurse think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’ve been dead before. I know what happens.”

  Serena bit her lips, not knowing whether to tell her the truth.

  Nancy grabbed onto Serena’s hands. “Serena, please be honest with me. I knew something was wrong when that doctor asked me if I wanted morphine. I mean, I’m not even in any pain.” She looked deep into her granddaughter’s eyes. “Am I dying?”

  Serena wrestled with the decision. She decided that her grandmother deserved to know the truth.

  “Yes,” she said solemnly. “Yes, you are, grandma.”

  A smile spread across Nancy’s gaunt yet cheerful face. “Good. Then, I’ll get to see Ryan again.

  Tentatively, Serena asked, “Who’s Ryan?”

  “He gave me his guitar. You’re named after it.” She pointed to the rusty old guitar gathering dust in the corner.

  Seeing the confused expression on her granddaughter’s face, Nancy elaborated. “Ryan was the greatest love of my life. Sure, I loved your grandfather, but not in the same way. I’ve never talked about Ryan, but I thought about him every day.” Nancy sighed, her dark eyes wistful.

  “You’re not afraid of death?” asked Serena softly.

  “Why should I be afraid? I’m going to see him soon.” She smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Really soon.” She wasn’t sure of that at all, but the hope and thought gave her courage to deal with death.

  She looked at her 24 year-old granddaughter. “You’re so young, Serena. You have your whole life ahead of you to live. You’re going to have a career, meet the love of your life, get married and have children. You have so much to look forward to.”

  Serena stroked her grandmother’s hair. “Don’t say that, grandma. Don’t say that.” She knew her grandmother was saying goodbye but she didn’t want her to.

  Nancy started hacking.

  Serena grabbed a glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to her grandmother.

  Nancy took a sip and placed the glass back on the bedside table. “I don’t think I have long now.” She closed her weary eyes. “I’m tired. So tired.”

  Serena stroked her grandma’s long hair. “You want me to call mom?”

  “No,” said Nancy, her eyes still closed. She was imagining Ryan’s handsome face.

  She opened her eyes when the image became too much to bear. A single tear trickled down her face when she thought about what Ryan had done for her. She stared out the window at the night stars.

  “It was on a night like this when I first met Ryan,” she mumbled to herself. At that moment, she was unaware that someone else was in the room with her.

  She was dying. She wanted to make sense of her life. She wanted to remember Ryan.

  As her granddaughter sat by her side and clutched her cold hand, Nancy thought about her long life and everything that had happened. She thought about her own death and her rebirth. She thought about having no regrets because she finally got to pursue and achieve her dreams, all thanks to the boy called Ryan.

  ***

  Chapter 1

  75 years earlier

  In a tiny, remote village in the Macedonian countryside, 18 year-old Nancy was playing her guitar in a wide-open clearing. The melody was melancholic, much like a funeral march, but also infused with sweet notes of hope and joy.

  A rustling in the bushes made her stop. She brushed her long dark windswept hair out of her face and listened carefully. There it was again. Nancy scanned the sun-tinted bushes and spotted a furry white rabbit in the thicket. It was in an entangled mess and was trying to escape.

  She approached the animal and knelt down beside it.

  “Poor thing,” she said, her voice heavy with concern. “You’re trapped.”

  She reached for the rabbit, but its dark eyes were filled with fear.

  “It’s OK,” she whispered. “It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The rabbit made a whimpering sound as she attempted to help it break free. After a few attempts of disentangling its legs from the trees roots, she finally freed it.

  A smile burst onto her beautiful face.

  The rabbit turned around and started to bolt away, but then it stopped in its tracks, its giant ears perked up.

  Nancy approached. The rabbit stayed put.

  She reached down and pet it and the rabbit made a sort of purring sound, like a cat would. Then, it turned around and scampered away.

  As Nancy watched it leave, she felt envy sink into her heart.

  How great would it be to have that kind of freedom and take off whenever I want to, she thought.

  She looked behind her at the teahouse. It was time to get back to work.

  ***

  As Nancy cleaned the tables at her uncle’s teahouse, the din of the patrons’ conversations surrounded her. Certain parts of certain conversations particularly intrigued her.

  Hollywood.

  California.

  Music.

  Superstar.

  Hot sun.

  Beautiful beaches.

  Warm water.

  Her ears always perked up when they heard these words. Yet, America was all the way on the other side of the world and there was no way she would escape from Macedonia. She was born a poor Macedonian farmer’s daughter and she would die a poor Macedonian farmer’s daughter. At least that was what she had always been told. No one ever left the poor backward third-world nation. Least of all leaving to have a shot of becoming successful and rich and famous. It just wasn’t done. Everyone in her village had grown up there, married there, had children there and died there. She was expected to do the same.

  Yes, she wanted to leave, but she wasn’t sure whether she could compete in the cutthroat world of entertainment, where other young struggling up-and-comers would step all over one another just to have a shot at stardom. She was too gentle, too nice.

  Although Nancy was considered to be the most beautiful girl in the village, she was sure that she was a lot less glamorous than all the stars she saw in American magazines, like People or Us Weekly, that wealthy American tourists would leave in the teahouse. Even if she did manage to arrive in Hollywood, she wasn’t sure if she could survive and thrive in the mean streets of Los Angeles. But still, what she wouldn’t give to have a chance. She was good with the guitar. She had been writing her own songs and practicing everyday with the guitar that her mother had given her before she died. Nancy even gave it a name. Lucy. The gorgeous brass guitar was the only souvenir she had of her mother, who died of cancer when she was only 12.

  Nancy would always remember the promise that she made to her mother as she was taking her last breath on her deathbed.

  Her mother had clutched her hands and said, “I want you to pursue your dreams. No matter what, you have to get out of Macedonia. There are no opportunities for a poor girl like you here. Don’t stay here like me and marry the farmer next door. There are greater things waiting for you out in that big world. Go explore. You go chase your dreams no matter what.”

  Yet, six years later, she was still here, serving tea to customers in her uncle’s teahouse.

  “Excuse me, miss,” an American customer called. “More tea, please.”

  Nancy was shaken out of her thoughts. She looked up at the handsome, young American man. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties. He had slicked-back black hair and deep brown eyes. He reminded her of a snake oil salesman – someone suave and confident. He was even dressed like one: he had on a black Armani business suit and black dress pants.

  She took a pitcher of green tea and refreshed the man’s porcelain cup.

  He nodded and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “Thank you, miss.”

  He went back to reading his People’s magazine.

  Nancy stopped short when she realized who was on the cover. It was the international music star Celine Dion, singing at Caesar’s Palace
in Las Vegas. She had the kind of career that Nancy had always wanted.

  She pointed to the cover. “Are you a big fan?”

  The guy flipped to the cover. “Of Celine Dion?”

  She nodded.

  He took a sip of tea. “Not really. I work in the American entertainment industry. I’m a music producer. I’m just here in Macedonia on vacation.”

  Upon hearing that news, her big brown eyes sparkled.

  “I love music,” she said, standing beside his table in her work uniform, which consisted of a pair of blue overalls and an apron.

  The tourist looked up at her. “Oh yeah? Are you a musician?”

  “Something like that. I play the guitar.”

  The guy looked up at her with interest. “I’m Mark.”

  He held out one hand and she shook it.

  “Nancy,” she said.

  “Hi, Nancy. I’m always looking for talent. Are you looking for representation?”

  She nodded, her heart racing. Could this be the day that her life would finally begin?

  Mark polished off his cup of tea. “Would you play a little something for me?”

  Her uncle, a big, burly man with a receding hairline, stood at the counter and cleared his throat.

  Nancy nodded again. “Yeah. I’m about to play a little something for the customers. Stick around.”

  Mark nodded.

  She looked at her uncle. He wasn’t really her uncle, just a business associate of her father’s, but he was the only one willing to look after her, so he offered her a job at his teahouse, but she suspected it wasn’t completely out of kindness. She suspected it was because he wouldn’t have to pay her as much as other employees.

  She approached the man, who had both hairy arms on his hips.

  “What did I say about talking too much to the customers?” he said, a scowl growing on his pudgy face.

  “I know, I know,” she said, sighing.

  His frown hardened. “If you talk too much, then you’ll neglect your duties.”

  “I know,” she repeated.

  “Just be careful,” he said, leaning in closer. “You’re a beautiful girl. Strange men take one look at you and fall in love. You never know what their intentions are.”

  She remained silent. She was sure that his concern for her was less than fatherly. He just didn’t want her to run off with another man because then he’d have to go through the trouble of finding another employee and paying him the minimum wage, which was more than what he was paying her. But he was right, of course. It was dangerous to be seduced by a strange man. But still, the thought of having a strange, handsome man sweep her off her feet and make all her wildest dreams come true sent chills all over her body.