The Guardian

By

Rose Marie Wolf

Part One

"Jonathan?"

He heard her voice call to him from the darkness and he opened his eyes. He had been slumbering, waiting in the shadows for her to call him. At first, he was not certain she had called. He waited in the darkness of his realm and listened again.

"Jonathan?" There was desperation in Rosemary's voice. He tore himself away from the shadows and materialized back to the land of the living. At once, he found himself in her bedroom.

It was dark, save for the lamp by her bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her body. She shivered as she always did when he was around. He remained in the shadows a moment longer and watched her.

Her long dark hair was tied at the back of her neck, hanging just between her shoulder blades. Her green eyes stared at the wall opposite her. He approached her, and stretched out his hand. It brushed across her neck, moving stray strands of hair away from the nape.

She shivered and jumped. When she turned, her eyes did not focus on him. She couldn't see him, not yet, but she knew he was there.

"Jonathan, is that you?" She whispered. She looked beyond him, searching the shadows for where he might emerge from. He was not strong enough yet to manifest himself in a solid form, or even semi-solid. For now, he was invisible to her. He moved toward the window and drew back the curtain. It fluttered back into place. Her attention turned to it.

"Oh, Jonathan," She breathed, "I was so scared today…" And she looked it. Her eyes were wide and her face peaked. She looked terrified. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close.

Again he closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt his body become denser. When Rosemary gasped, he knew he was solid enough. She looked right at him and flew into his arms.

"Oh, Jon, it was terrible…" She was warm and soft in his arms and he drew her close. "I saw another one…"

"Another one?" His voice was ethereal and soft, yet slightly hoarse from ill use. His hand ran over her silken hair. She sighed deeply.

"Yes."

"Tell me."

She hesitated at first and pulled away from his body. She looked up at him.

"It was horrible. I saw him at the bus station. He had a mean face and small eyes. He was very angry. I could feel it…"

"What did you do?" He asked, like a teacher instructing a student. She ran her thumb under her eye to brush away a tear.

"I was too upset to do anything. The aura of his anger was…overwhelming...I didn't try talking to him…"

"It was probably for the best," he sighed. "Not all spirits can be friendly. You remember me telling you this?"

"Yes, I remember but…it was still scary. It still bothers me."

"He didn't come after you, did he? Was he vengeful?"

Rosemary was silent for a moment. She turned her face away from him. Jonathan felt something akin to anger spark within him, but he quelled it before her empathy could pick up on it. He hated when she turned her back to him and when she didn't answer right away.

"Was he vengeful?" He asked again. Her eyes returned to his face.

"No, I mean…I don't think so. At least not to me…It just…it unnerved me."

"I understand." He said in a softer tone. He touched her arm and she shivered at his touch. He knew he was ice cold. It was one of the problems with being dead.

"Is that all that happened today?" He asked. She nodded her head.

"Yeah…that’s about it." She gave a small chuckle and a smile he always loved. "It seems kinda childish, getting scared of a mean looking ghost. I'm sorry I called you here…I just needed someone to talk to and seeing as how you're a ghost…" He silenced her there.

"You don't have to be sorry. It's perfectly fine." He tried to smile but it felt awkward to do so. There was nothing left to say. He pulled her into an embrace. She pressed her face to his chest and sighed heavily.

"You can call me any time. I'll always be here for you." He whispered.

"Thank you…" Rosemary pulled away from him. "But you better go. Mom will be up here at anytime to say goodnight."

"I understand." And he did. He kissed her forehead. She was warm. He didn't want to let go of her.

When finally, she slipped away and climbed into her bed, Jonathan slipped once more into the shadows, but he didn't disappear. He watched her switch off the light and lay her head on her pillow. Within moments, her breathing had slowed and she was asleep. Her mother never came in to say goodnight.

Jonathan crept forward and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. He smoothed hair back from her forehead and she stirred only slightly. He pulled the blanket over her shoulder and sat back.

She was much too young to have such stress placed upon her. Her gifts grew day by day and she was frightened. How ironic, he thought, that she turns to me, one of the things she fears most. But she was the only one who could see him.

This thought discouraged him a bit and he stood up. He heard the footsteps long before her mother made it to the door. He vanished into thin air but did not leave.

Marilyn opened the door to her daughter's room a moment later. She was sure she had heard voices coming from here. Cautiously, she peered into the darkened room but there was nothing there. Rosemary was curled up in her bed, sound asleep.

She sat next to her and felt her forehead. Her daughter stirred only slightly under her touch. She snorted and smacked her lips but didn't wake.

Marilyn knew there was something wrong with her daughter. There were days when she came home from school and went straight to her room without a word to anyone. She wouldn't come down for dinner. She only left her room to go to the bathroom. She would hear her footsteps as she tiptoed across the floor. By the time Marilyn reached the steps, her daughter was once more confined in her room.

She was worried. Rosemary was becoming more and more distant. Her grades were falling. Her teachers were complaining of her inattentive behavior in class. She was becoming increasingly shy and withdrawn. She was losing weight rapidly. Marilyn only wanted to know what was going on. She only wanted her to talk.

But raising a teenage daughter was difficult. Was it boys? Was it school? Her little girl was growing up much too fast. Marilyn sighed deeply and adjusted the blankets and sheets around her shoulders. This time Rosemary shifted again and murmured in her sleep.

"Jon…" She whispered. She exhaled deeply. Marilyn furrowed her brow. The name sounded familiar, and she knew why it did. But there were other kids named Jon. It was a fairly common name. It couldn't be who she thought it was.

Marilyn sighed once more and closed her eyes. Rosemary was only fourteen. She really was growing up too fast.

The curtains fluttered in the window and startled Marilyn from her thoughts. The window wasn't even open. There was no breeze coming in, not even through the cracks. She blinked in confusion and crossed the room. She pulled the curtains back and felt along the edge of the window pane. Nothing.

"Strange," she whispered softly. It was cold. The hairs on her arms stood up. She shivered and rubbed them. She closed the curtains and turned back to look at her daughter. She looked so peaceful laying there.

Marilyn knew she had to do something, had to find out what was causing such a big change in her daughter. They never kept things from each other in the past, but everything had changed. Her daughter was drifting further and further away from her. She wished they could just talk, like they used to.

She walked to Rosemary's bed and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I wish you would just talk to me, baby, tell me what's wrong…" She smiled softly. "Please…"

But Rosemary didn't murmur sleepily this time. She breathed deeply and steadily and Marilyn somehow, deep in her heart, knew that her daughter would never tell her. She left the room and softly closed the door behind her.

Drifting through solid walls and doors was always interesting to him. It reminded him of the tingly feeling when a limb fell asleep, but it had been years since he had been alive. Memory was all he had now and it was what it reminded him of.

He drifted through the closed door of Rosemary's room and swept down the hall. Invisible to those who did not possess the ability to see spirits, Jonathan remained in the shadows nevertheless. He caught a glimpse of dark hair and a shoulder as Marilyn turned the corner. He slipped through the wall and entered here bedroom.

She was still as beautiful as she was the last time they were together. She was older. Her dark hair was now sparked with grey. There were new lines on her face, but she was still gorgeous to him.

He slipped around the room and stood by the window. His fingertips touched the curtains and eased them back. Marilyn did not notice. She had her back to him.

He watched her as she undressed. There was once a time when he would do anything to watch her in such a private and intimate setting, but those days were over. He still had love for her, an attachment, but there was nothing physical. There was nothing sexual about it. Not any more.

She was the true reason why he was here, in this house. She could not see him. She never had, but three years after he had died, her infant child had stared at him and cooed. Rosemary could see him.

Then it clicked. Rosemary was gifted. She could help him with his unfinished business. It would take a long time, until she was old enough to understand. He would have to be patient but he had nothing better to do. Rosemary was his last hope.

Over the years, they became good friends. He watched over her and guided her. He taught her what he knew about the spirit realm. He helped her with whatever he could. And she kept it a secret. Marilyn didn’t know about him.

But he wanted her to. There were many nights and days when he just wished she would turn and face him. Their eyes would meet and she would understand.

But Marilyn wasn't gifted like her daughter. It must've been a gene from the father's side. Jonathan didn't like the man, but there was nothing he could've done one way or another. Marilyn had been happy with him, her husband, and had been equally devastated when he died of a heart attack at forty-two.

He watched her as she slipped a pajama top over her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She turned and he caught the side profile of her face in the dim light. She sighed deeply and slipped into bed.

Jonathan could see the pain in her eyes. He could see the confusion and worry. Rosemary's gifts were becoming too much for her, and not being able to tell the person closest to her about it was taking a heavy toll upon her young body. A child was not made to have such stress forced upon her. He wanted to take it all away. It was also having its toll on her mother.

He saw Rosemary as his own child. She was the daughter he never had. He protected now it was time. It was finally time for him to enlist Rosemary's help in completing his unfinished business. The first step would be difficult and hard on Rosemary, but she would have to do it.

The first step was to tell her mother everything.

Jonathan watched a moment longer. Marilyn did not fall asleep as quickly as her daughter had. She lay awake, blinking into the darkness. Sleep finally overtook her several minutes later. Her eyelids grew heavy and she nodded off.

He approached her and gently touched her forehead, as he had done to Rosemary. Marilyn didn't stir. She looked sad and careworn as she slept.

"You won't have to worry much any more about what's troubling your little girl," He whispered. "You don't have to worry…"

No one knew her secret and Rosemary wanted to keep it that way. She awoke the next morning before her alarm rang and got dressed at top speed. As she ran a brush through her tangled hair, she wondered where Jonathan was. Was he there now, watching her? A delicious shiver went through her.

In a considerably better mood, she grabbed her books and schoolbag and headed out of her room and down the stairs. Her mother was fixing breakfast. Bacon sizzled from the kitchen.

"Rosemary, do you want some bacon?" She called.

"Not now, Mom. Not hungry!" She called back on her way to the door. Marilyn leaned through the door.

"You sure? I can fix you a bacon and tomato sandwich."

"No, Mom. I'm going to be late!" She hurried out the door, slamming it behind her. She didn't give her mother a chance to say anything more.

She walked briskly down the sidewalk and toward school. She wasn't going to be late. She had lied about that. She was very early, and that was just how she liked it.

The birds chirped and followed her as she passed the park. She took her usual detour through it and sat on the park bench under the oak. It was still dark in the early morning hours. The sun was just beginning to rise.

Her mom would kill her if she knew she came here in the wee hours of the morning. "To school and back only" was her mother's mantra, but what Mom wouldn't know, wouldn't hurt her. Or so Rosemary figured.

She loved the solitude of the early mornings. Not many people were at the park this early and she had the place all to herself. The birds chirped as they jumped around for their breakfast. She smiled and reached into the zipper pouch of her schoolbag. From it she removed a plastic baggie of crackers.

She watched the birds as she crushed the crackers in her hand and smiled again.

"Here you go, little guys." She said softly. She tossed the cracker crumbs on the grass and rubbed her hands together to get rid of all the crumbs on her palms. She watched the birds flap around and flock to the crumbs. She sighed softly and lifted her eyes to watch the rest of the sun rise over the tree tops.

A man's face loomed in front of her. It was the same angry, small-eyed, hated stare she had seen yesterday. She could not help but scream as a pair of solid, beefy hands came at her throat.

"You've been watching me!" The man yelled. His hands closed around her throat. Rosemary felt the coldness of his dead hands. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't breathe.

"You've been watching me!" He screamed again. He was too angry, too powerful. She felt overwhelmed with his emotions. She was going to die.

"No!" She tried to say, but she couldn't. Spots danced before her eyes. She was going to die. This ghost was going to kill her.

Suddenly, the pressure around her neck ceased and she coughed and sputtered. She rubbed her throat and looked up. The man was gone and in his place Jonathan stood. It occurred to her suddenly that she had never seen him in daylight and now it streamed around him. He was solid, just as if he were alive. He held his hand for her.

"He's gone." He said as he helped her up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so." Again she rubbed her throat. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," He began. "But it was fortunate that I was here."

"Yes, it was…." She blinked a few times. "Why are you here?"

"To watch over you. I need to talk to you." he attempted a faint smile but it was lost in the severity of the moment."Are you alright? You look pale."

"I'm fine." She said, but she wasn't really sure. "I just wish I couldn't see them or feel them, sometimes." She grabbed her bag from the park bench. Her hands shook and she was upset by what happened, but she couldn't miss another class. She was in enough hot water as it was.

"I know." Jonathan said. "But you were given your gifts for a reason."

She sighed deeply. "I hate it. Ever since this started happening to me, everything in my life has gone downhill. I can't concentrate, my grades are failing. And mom…"Rosemary stared past him and into the distance. She sighed heavily. The sun was over the trees now and the sky was bright orange and blue.

She changed the subject. "What do you want to talk to me about? I'm going to have to go. It's getting late." She hoisted the bag over her shoulder.

Jonathan hesitated. "We can talk later. You don't want to be late."

"Well, it doesn't really matter if I'm late or not..."

"Yes, it does Rosemary…We can speak later."

"Are you sure?" She asked suspiciously.

"Yes, it's quite alright. If you would like, I could look into this…ghost for you, in the meantime."

"Would you?" She asked. She began to back away from him. "I wouldn’t want to trouble you. I mean, it's my problem…not yours…"

"Your problems are my problems, Rosemary."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you…"

"We can talk when you get home from school. It's very important."

"Alright." She felt awkward. This was the first time Jonathan had sounded so serious. Something was up. Nervously, she brushed hair away from her face. "I'll see you then…I better go."

He nodded without a word and vanished as quickly as he had arrived. The sun was now fully in the sky. From faraway she heard the bells of a church ringing. It was seven a.m. She was late.

She hurried out of the park and ran the rest of the way to school. She didn't have time to ponder on what had happened this morning, or to be afraid. If she missed another class, she would have more than ghosts to be scared of! Her mother's angry and disappointed eyes would be enough punishment.

Her shoes smacked on the pavement. The school bell rang just as she reached the yard. She hurried inside and to class, the spirits and her problems forgotten…

For now