Buttercup

A ghost doesn’t haunt a house. It haunts a person.

Frank had read this somewhere, somewhere he couldn’t now recall. It was shortly after everything had started and he had been sure he was losing his mind. He still wasn’t sure that he wasn’t losing his mind but at least others had seen the little yellow flowers that started appearing shortly after he had been released from the hospital.

The first flower had been easy to explain, at least until he thought more about it. It appeared very early one morning on his doorstep after he had wakened, sweat soaked, from a nearly sleepless night of tremors and screaming visions of horror. It had been right before dawn, and he had stepped out onto his small front porch to clear his head.

There in the frosty morning air centered perfectly on the weathered wooden landing had been a small, perfect, bright yellow flower. A buttercup Frank had thought. Maybe, he wasn’t sure, but he seemed to remember his mom pointing them out to him as a child long ago.

Maybe it had blown in off the meadow nearby? Frank had recently moved to a place left to him after his mom had passed away. The cottage was situated on the outskirts of town and there were woods bordering the property and a pasture that would likely hold these kinds of flowers- in the late spring. But he had found it in March.

Frank remembered stooping to pick up the tiny perfect wonder. Somehow this token of wonder had created a bright spot in a sea of gray.

Since then, the flowers had appeared in odd places at odd times. Once next to the lamp beside his bed after another endless night. Once where he kept his father’s service pistol. He had gone to retrieve the .45 caliber pistol to see what condition it was in, at least that’s what he had been telling himself at the time. There on the lid of the pistol safe, kept inside a locked cabinet, had been another single splash of golden color.

And it wasn’t just flowers. His therapist insisted that Frank keep a daily journal but for some reason Frank found it really difficult to write about anything of consequence. He subconsciously put it off for days at a time. Then, somehow, the cheap little lined notebook he was supposed to use, started appearing wherever he was. He found it by his coffeemaker, on his bed, even on the seat of his old truck. He couldn’t get away from the damn thing. Finally, after he found it resting on the toilet seat when he had to pee in the middle of the night, he announced out loud, “Okay, I get it!”. He was mildly annoyed, but he did start writing.

The events even followed him into work. He was lucky enough to find a job close to home on a loading dock. Moving pallets around all day wasn’t mentally challenging which suited him just fine. His bosses were solid, supportive and no-nonsense and mostly just left him alone to do his job, but his co-workers were like grit in his grits. They were mostly younger than he and completely clueless about the world at large. This didn’t bother him so much. He could hardly expect them to be different than he would have been if he hadn’t joined up. What bothered him was that they treated the job like an extension of high school and saw his quiet demeanor as an invitation to fuck with him whenever possible.

One or more of them had thought it would be great fun to glue his lunch box to the break room table. That was bad enough. But then they had to ruin his lunch with a massive dose of hot sauce poured over the food he brought from home. Frank could feel the heat bubble up inside him like lava. His hands had started trembling and his vision narrowed. Amid the juvenile laughter, Frank had left the break room that day and wandered into the small park next to the industrial center where he worked. In the tepid spring sunshine, he sat on a bench and started through the mental exercises his therapist had given him, trying to calm down, but nothing had worked.

Frank had finally given up and had just decided to go back to work to put his notice in, when a small, beautifully patterned, cornflower blue butterfly landed on his knee. As Frank studied the delicate creature, he could feel the shield of anger melting away around him. At first the butterfly seemed to behave like he would expect, alighting and then moving off. But then this one didn’t. It hovered and danced around him. Even briefly using his nose as a landing strip.

As Frank had stared cross eyed at the tiny being, he realized- the world is full of idiots, but it’s also full of unexpected wonder and beauty.

That was last week. And he was getting a little worried as he sat drinking his Saturday morning coffee. It had been days and there hadn’t been a flower or any sign of her. Her. Yes, somehow, he had decided the spirit was a ‘her’. He couldn’t define why exactly. Sometimes when he fought his way out of a fevered restless sleep he could feel a small, cool, soft hand on his forehead. Sometimes when he entered a room he caught the faintest possible hint of jasmine. Probably just his imagination, or maybe wishful thinking, but he was getting the foreign feel of a feminine touch from this elusive spirit.

But where had ‘she’ gone? Maybe the butterfly trick had exhausted her otherworldly energy? Frank had no idea how this was supposed to work, but he imagined that if communicating between worlds was easy there’d be a lot more of it happening.

Maybe she had simply tired of him and moved on? Frank could think of no reason why the spirit had picked him to begin with. It wasn’t like he was exceptional in any way. He knew it was too much to expect but her small gestures were like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man.

Frank was startled from his musing by the chime of children laughing. Sometimes the neighborhood children came into his yard to feed carrots to the two horses in the pasture next door. He had tried unsuccessfully to play the grumpy old fart, but he had never fooled the kids. It didn’t help that their parents had known him since he was a boy, long before he went away to never really return.

He carefully pulled the curtain back to see what they were up to. Not carefully enough, as a little blond-haired pixy saw him peeking out, peeled away from the gaggle of other children and ran to his front door.

“Mr. Frank! Mr. Frank! I have something for you!” said the gap-toothed pixy with a big smile on her face.

Frank cracked the door open and stepped onto his porch.

He tried but couldn’t hold back a smile at the little 6-year-old, tow-headed, urchin wearing dirty kneed blue jeans and a pink “My Little Pony” sweatshirt.

“What is it, Janie?” Frank asked, kneeling down to her height.

“Your girlfriend said she had to go away for a little while, but she said to give this to you,” she said, holding out a closed palm.

“I don’t have a girlfriend Janie,” said Frank.

“Really? That’s not what she thinks.” said Janie firmly with a look that implied Frank wasn’t very smart.

“Okay, what do you have there?” said Frank, reaching out.

Janie opened her hand and a perfect golden buttercup flower fell into his.

Frank was speechless for a moment. Janie just giggled at the stunned look on his face. How had this child been able to see what he couldn’t?

“Uh Janie, what did this woman look like?” stuttered Frank.

“Duh! She’s your girlfriend, you should know! She is…she had…I don’t know ‘zactly!” said a stymied Janie. “I don’t remember but she was really pretty and really nice!”

“I’m sure she was Janie, thank you for bringing me this sweetie,” said Frank.

“Sure! Oh, and she sent this too!” said the little girl as she flew into him, threw her arms around his neck and gave him the biggest squeeze her little body could manage.

Frank’s allergies suddenly flared up and he was having a hard time seeing out of his wet eyes.

“Thank you for that as well Janie! Say hi to the horsies for me,” said Frank as Janie spun out of his arms and down the stairs to join her friends.

“No problem Mr. Frank, but you are silly- horsies don’t talk only unicornies do!” Janie said with a peal of laughter.

Did Frank hear right? Did this mean that his spirit was only gone for ‘awhile’? Frank thought hopefully, and then had to laugh at himself. He missed his ghost. This had to be a first in the history of hauntings. Maybe he needed even more therapy? He shook his head ruefully and stood to continue his weekend routine.

Day blended into days. Frank continued to struggle but the breathing space and the small fragments of hope she had given him, helped him survive. Just knowing that there was more to this world than could be seen shook him out of the solitary gray void that often enveloped him. But for some unknowable reason it felt like a part of him was missing.

It was just another Saturday night and he had decided to turn on the tv. Mostly, he avoided media of any kind, but he did like old movies now and then. He had gotten up from his recliner for a beer and couldn’t reach the remote in time to turn it off when a breaking news report interrupted the movie.

Frank was captured by it like a fly in amber. He couldn’t escape the flickering screen. Image after image of a school and children. Police, guns. The sound of shots ringing out across a playground. It was just too much. Sometime later he realized that he was curled in a ball on the couch. He was exhausted but at least able to move. For a moment he gazed at the gun cabinet again and then remembered the flower. No, not yet.

Exhausted he staggered into his bedroom and threw himself on the bed falling headfirst into sleep.

It started like it always did, with the tang of cordite and the coppery bite of blood. Then came the sounds. The repetitive thud of a heavy machine gun played base to the sharp staccato cracks of high velocity rifle fire and the slapping sound of impacts on mud walls.

Some small part of Frank’s mind knew that this was going to be a bad one. He was at the school once again.

The school that he and his unit had helped to build as part of their “Hearts and Minds” program. The villagers had seemed very supportive especially as it included a tiny clinic and other facilities, but somehow the Taliban took exception to girls learning to read and they had picked today to teach the villagers a lesson and provide a lesson to others in the region.

“Sandy, can you get me some covering fire on that hill?” Frank yelled over the din at one of his fire team leaders.

“Shit Frank, you can’t go in there, as soon as they get the range with those heavy mortars the school is toast,” replied Lance Corporal Sanderson, his 1st fire team leader.

They were severely outgunned. No one had expected a Taliban attack in this sector and his squad of 12 Marines were all that had been left behind as a quick reaction force in the area. They had already called for fire support and evacuation, but it was going to be much too late for the single teacher and the 15 kids trapped in the school. The walls of the school were solid mud brick and would hold up briefly under small arms fire but it was likely that the attackers would soon start lobbing heavy mortar rounds and the roof and walls would disintegrate under the pounding of high explosive.

“We have to try something. If you and team two can get their heads down for a few minutes maybe I can lead the kids out through the back door using the walls of the market for cover," said Frank.

Sandy relayed fire direction orders to the squad's lone light machine gun, while Frank signaled his third fire team over. Ducking below the cover provided by the berm protecting their positions the 4-man team made their way over.

"Okay here's the plan. Team 1 and 2 are going to give us cover as we beat feet across the road to the school there. Your team is going to provide rear cover while I go into the school to bring out the kids and any staff through the rear entrance and into the bunkers."

"You gottit Sergeant Ricco, you sure you don't need some of us inside?" said newly promoted Corporal Valenzuela.

"I'd like that but if they try and hit us from the flank or rear while I'm inside it will take all of you to keep our evac route clear. Hopefully, there haven't been any casualties yet and they can walk out on their own," replied Frank.

Frank gave the signal to Sandy and as the light machine gun opened up he and the third fire team sprinted across the dirt road and slammed breathlessly into the protecting walls of the small vestibule. Fire team three entered first and made their way to the rear of the building while Frank ran down the hallway and into the single large classroom where he thought the students would be gathered.

“Friendly coming in,” He shouted at the entrance with the hope that hearing an American voice would keep the kids from being overly alarmed as he burst into the room.

“Shit,” he said to himself in a low voice. His hope of finding no casualties was dashed. Laying under the one largish window toward the front of the class was the new teacher. Her body covered two small children. The rest of the children were huddled together in the far corner of the room. The children were so shocked they weren’t even crying apart from a few sobs now and then.

Frank could read the story in a glance. The teacher and the two children must have been standing by the front of the class when the first rounds shattered the window. The teacher must have turned to protect her students when a round caught her in the upper back. The students that had been sitting in their small chairs were lower than the window and terrified but unharmed…so far.

Frank unslung his combat med kit and ran to where the teacher lay sprawled. He slowly turned her to check the kids and was amazed to find them both scratched and bleeding from glass cuts but largely unharmed. The teacher's face was so covered in gore from the glass cuts it was unrecognizable as human except for her beautiful blue eyes staring at him fiercely. He could hear a gasp rasp out from her but knew these were her last breaths and there was not a single thing he could do about it. He gently cradled her upper body and could feel her marshal her last strength. As he held her in his arms, he could hear her whisper something.

“The children, get them out,” she gasped out an order as he leaned closer.

“I will, I promise. Rest now. I’ll bring help,” said Frank.

“Children first,” she said with the final drop of her will.

“Yes, I’ll get them out and come back. You’ll be fine,” replied Frank with a truth and a lie.

The woman smiled, somehow aware that Frank was trying to comfort her and then he saw the life leave her body with a slight rattle and sigh. He laid her gently back to the dusty floor and closed her staring eyes. Covering her body with his poncho.

If he had had a moment, he might have come completely apart but he knew the Taliban weren’t going to allow that luxury as an ear shattering boom rattled the walls and shook dust down from the ceiling. Frank didn’t know how much English the children had learned so far but he figured a few words and gestures were going to have to do.

“Okay everyone hold hands and follow me,” Frank demonstrated by taking a boy's hand and gesturing to a girl. As another mortar blast shook the walls on the far side of the school Frank knew they were bracketed and the next one wouldn’t miss. The children caught on very quickly and in just a moment he began leading the children toward the back of the school.

Lance Corporal Rockford was waiting for them at the back door and Frank handed the first child off to him. Rockford attempted a smile at the children and gestured them to stay low as he began leading the chain along a low berm toward the protective bunkers. It was a calculated risk. The children were vulnerable to shrapnel in the open for a few seconds, but the school was the primary target and a death trap for anyone left inside.

Frank stayed at the door counting heads, but he saw the end of the line way too soon. Somewhere toward the end of the chain there were 3 children who had gotten lost or frozen in terror among the dust, smoke and confusion.

Frank gestured at Rockford with three fingers held up and turned to go back into the school and that was the last thing he remembered, the last part of the dream that he knew was fact. But the dream didn’t stop there.

It continued with what he imagined were the last moments of the children left inside and their fear, pain and hopelessness. Wrapped around it all were his broken promise to the courageous teacher and his failure to act correctly and quickly enough to save them. There had to have been something else he could have done. Children had died because of him.

Some small part of his mind knew that this was the worst it had ever been, knew that he could not stand the pain and guilt and terror any longer. Frank was unaware, but his body was wildly contorting as muscle stood out in corded bundles and he fought himself from within. Sweat poured from his body and flew across his fevered skin.

Then, with the remote part of his mind that remained an impartial viewer he felt her. A cool hand caressed his cheek and forehead. The smell of jasmine stronger than ever before permeated his senses. Another first, he could hear a low soft whisper about him, comforting him like a mother would a child, or a woman would her distraught lover.

Slowly he regained his senses brought back from the edge of insanity by the caring touch and soft words. Soft, barely heard words slowly resolved themselves into lightly accented American English.

“It’s okay my love, it’s okay. I’m with you now.” the voice whispered gently.

Frank slowly stumbled out of his dream into a barely conscious state to find a feminine presence sitting on the bed next to him, one featherlight hand on his cheek another on his sweating chest. He got a vague impression of a slender dark haired woman in her twenties but try as he might he could not bring her outline into clear view. It was as if there were a translucent layer between them. Even the musical pitch of her voice sounded like it was the echo of another sound.

“Who-who are you?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” the figure replied with an unsure smile. “I can’t remember many details, but I remember my father always called me Buttercup.”

“You called me ‘my love’” do I know you?” asked Frank.

Frank couldn’t say how he could tell but he could feel the presence blush as she shyly dropped her head. Who knew that ghosts could blush?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you could hear me when I said that,”

“It’s okay. Thank you, I haven’t heard those words in many years and never expected to hear them again,”

“I don’t know you, but I’ve watched you for many months now,” mumbled the presence in an even lower voice. “And I remember you a little from before I got here. You tried to comfort me.”

Frank was puzzled. He couldn’t remember anything about ‘comforting’ a woman in his recent life.

“I don’t have much time here so I have to say what I know to be true without playing…coy.” The presence said searching for the word. “You, Frank, are a good man, with a good heart. I may not remember who I am exactly, but this I’m certain of. Every day I watched the little things you do, the small kindnesses you give others, even when they are sometimes cruel to you. I could see the joy under the sadness in you and it made my heart feel full. I’m certain we were meant to have more time together,”

“I don’t understand how you can care about me. You don’t really know me, or know how I’ve failed and the children who died because of me,” said Frank sobbing.

“I do know, I was there. I remember the children. I remember those 12 you saved,”

“But those that I…” Frank started and then it hit him who she was.

“I was there with them, holding them. They did not pass in fear. Then it was my turn but I knew that there was something left for me to do. I wasn’t sure but I knew it had to do with you, so I stayed in the in-between place and followed you.”

“It was you In the school! I remember you now. Sorry we never got to really meet,” said Frank sadly.

“And I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before, but we usually can’t talk from the in-between place. This is against the rules,”

“Rules?”

“It’s hard to explain, but when you are here you can feel the boundaries and just know what you can and cannot do. Somehow, I was allowed small gestures that you could see and feel in your world. And now I am allowed this short time with you and a few memories. I’m afraid this is all I’ll be able to do.

“How long do we have?”

“I’m not sure but maybe until the sun comes up?”

“Not enough time!”

“No, it’s not, but we have been given a very rare gift in the time we do have. Frank would it be okay…If I lay next to you,” she said.

Frank could once again feel the phantom blush.

“I would really like that.” Frank replied, equally shy.

Frank couldn’t feel her weight, just a pleasant cool tingling sensation as she stretched alongside him. The skin of his chest vibrated slightly as she shifted her head on his shoulder.

For a moment they lay together, not speaking, just reveling in the awareness of each other. Even though there was no flesh, no weight and no warmth the delicate scent of night blooming jasmine washed over him, and Frank had never spent a more intimate moment with another.

“Please, tell me what you remember of your life,” asked Frank.

“I’ll try, but it’s going to be a very short story. You, on the other hand, have to tell me every single thing about you!” she replied saucily.

They both chuckled and he could ‘feel’ her smile against him. And so it started. The next hours were filled with laughter and tears and gentle moments of simple silence. Frank longed for it to continue forever. But the rose glow of the coming sunrise in his bedroom window chased his hope away.

“I have to go now my love,” she said

“I know. I would give anything, everything, if you didn’t have to,” Frank said but he could sense that she had to leave as well.

“Frank, please promise me something. No matter what happens, please hang on, for me. Don’t give up. Even if I have to go, a part of me will always be with you, and we will see each other again somehow!”

“I…I promise I will.” Frank replied, hesitantly at first because of his last failed promise to her. “And I will never forget a single moment of tonight.”

Just as the sun peeked over the far line of hills, she slipped her ethereal form over his and they kissed a single butterfly kiss that somehow contained the weight of the world. A brief glimmering flash and she was gone from his life.

Frank was devastated. But he kept his promise and slowly each day got a little bit better. He remembered her last words with hope and the memories they had made in their too brief time together somehow buoyed him when he was at his lowest.

Weeks passed and Frank was amused and touched when the little girl and some of her friends for some unknown reason ‘adopted’ him and he became ‘Uncle Frank’. Hardly a day went by when one or the other of them didn’t stop to say ‘Hi’ or at least wave to him in passing. He made sure that there were always apples or carrots for the horses next door, and made sure to reconnect with some of their parents to let them know that he’d keep an eye on them when they were in his yard.

Christmas came and went. He’d even managed enough cheer to put up a few lights and a Santa in the yard. Finally, it was time for his 6-month follow-up at the hospital. His physical wounds had healed well for the most part but there was still some lingering pain. After spending months in the hospital he really hated returning but he felt that part of keeping his promise to her meant taking care of himself.

As he was on his way out the door he noticed a little red folded paper heart on his doorstep. He opened it with a smile and noticed that it was addressed to ‘Uncle Frank’ from Janie and contained a scrawl asking him to be her Valentine. It was so kind of the little munchkin to think of him, she was going to be an amazing young woman someday soon, but it did bring a little pang to his heart. He hadn’t had any sign of his true valentine in months. But today was a day of hope for lovers and maybe he’d get word from his. He thought perhaps she would be proud of him. Proud that he wasn’t giving up and that he carried her in his thoughts and in his heart every day.

He was able to get into his appointment without the normal two hour delay. Another big plus was when he spotted one of his favorite nurses on break in the hallway. Nurse Biggs Paterson, formerly known as Navy Hospital Corpsman Paterson, had served with Marines in the same area of operations as Frank and they even knew a few of the same people.

“Hey Doc! How you doin’?” said Frank.

“Not bad Sergeant, Oorah! haven’t seen you in a while,” replied Biggs with a huge smile, a tight handshake and half a man hug.

They spent a few minutes catching up and Frank was just about to make his excuses to leave when out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone being wheeled into the sunroom. Something about the slim figure seemed familiar.

“Say, who is that?” Frank pointed with his chin.

“That my friend, is our resident miracle.”

“Miracle? How's that?”

“Well that young lady was in a coma for nearly 6 months, then 4 weeks ago, for no reason that any doctor has been able to understand, she came out of it. She has no memory of what happened to her, or her life before, but she’s recovering quickly. It’s probably better that she doesn’t remember everything, truthfully- she lost her entire family in the same accident that put her here,” said Biggs with a sad shake of his head.

“That is pretty amazing alright. Something about her seems familiar. Do you think it would be okay if I talked to her?”

“Don’t see why not. The doctors are encouraging her to get some social interaction hoping that it will stimulate her memory recovery. I have to get back on duty, but the sun room there is open to visitors. Just try not to make her swoon with that handsome mug of yours will yah?” said Biggs with a chuckle.

“No promises, but I’ll try,” laughed Frank. He wasn’t quite as scary as he had been the first few weeks but the scars on his neck and face ensured that he wasn’t going to be winning any beauty contests in the near future.

As he cracked the double doors into the sun room, he saw a slender dark brunette figure with her back toward him reading. The sun streamed through the overlarge windows striking her terry cloth covered shoulders in a nimbus of light. There was definitely something familiar with the way she sat, her head slightly cocked- deep into her book. But he knew that he hadn’t seen her before. Maybe it was a sister or near relative that he knew?

He almost didn’t want to disturb her quiet time, but his curiosity pushed him forward. He stopped a few feet in front of her and waited for the young woman to look up. Softly curled dark hair fell down about her forehead and cheeks as she read the book in her lap. She was somewhere in her twenties and more than just pretty. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had to know how he knew her. Frank softly cleared his throat and was rewarded when she glanced up with a startled look.

Sparkling green eyes transfixed him. Green, not blue, but they were her eyes. They showed that same innocent and fierce spark that he had seen on that dusty floor in Afghanistan. Frank knew it from the depths of his soul. But why did she not recognize him?

Frank was nearly frozen, but managed to stammer out, “Sorry to bother you, uh…my name is Frank.”

The young woman gave a tentative smile. Frank's heart sank. Either he was delusional and this was not her, or it was her, but she was lost to him forever. Frank choked back the sorrow that threatened to consume him and slowly extended his hand.

She tentatively stretched out her own hand and the instant they touched a spark flew between them and her eyes flew open wide and she looked like she had been struck by lightning. What the hell had he done?

_______________________________

As she stared into the warm brown eyes she felt herself falling. Suddenly, she had a brief window into a memory. A memory of before the hospital. It was as if the swirling turbid waters of time and mind had cleared for an instant and she recalled, or was allowed to recall where she was before she awoke at the hospital.

The in-between place! She remembered now. She had been drifting, trying to stay close to the man, this man, looking for any way back to him when she encountered another spirit. A being that she knew instantly was beautiful, kind, and generous, but crushingly sad.

“Hi, I think I’ve been waiting for you,” said the sad spirit.

“For me?, Why for me? Who are you?”

“I’m not sure but I think we were supposed to meet. I just want to return home to be with my family, but I felt I should wait. I think I was waiting for you,” the sad spirit had said, then continued. “I can see the story in your heart, much love is written there, but there is much more for you ahead. I can feel you have very strong ties to the world, and to a particular person.”

“But I can never be a part of it again, or be with him ,can I?” she had replied softly, sadly.

“I don’t know, I don’t have those kinds of answers, but take my hand. I’m going to give you a gift,” with that the two spirits entwined hands and she had felt a warm glowing spark enter her. The first warmth she had felt in the in-between space.

There was a brief twinkling flash and she had heard the sad spirit, sad no more, as she laughed fading away from the in between place on her way to a new destination.

“Give him a kiss for me!” a slowly fading voice had said.

______________________________

“Miss, miss! Are you okay?” Frank said with a worried look. It had been several seconds since the woman blinked and she refused to give up his hand.

“I think I’m OK more than OK in fact,” the young woman finally said with a brilliant smile that melted Frank’s heart into a warm puddle. “Now what were you saying?”

“Uh, I was saying, my name is Frank”

“Yes, of course it is. I don’t know exactly who I am, but I’d really like you to call me Buttercup, and then I’d really like my Valentine’s Day kiss.”

THE END