Dance With Me

Ten minutes away from the rocky cliffs where my sister pledged her vows to her new husband, my ancient Volvo crunches and splutters. I left the ceremony site after everyone else, making sure Lena was safely ensconced in her limo with the layers of her gown tucked carefully around her like the fluted liner of a fine pastry. The other cars were quickly swallowed in cool October mist, leaving me to navigate the twisting back roads to the reception alone. 

Betty is a notoriously fussy hypochondriac of a car. She coughs and lets out a groan of displeasure. My heart pounds as I pull onto the gravel shoulder with a white-knuckle grip around the steering wheel. I can’t be late to the reception. Popping the hood, I grab the spare bottle of motor oil I keep just for this purpose and try to take deep breaths. Fog edged with autumn’s chill seeps through my thin bridesmaid’s dress. I grab the dipstick as chiffon billows around me like cresting waves and pour the oil. 

A loud snap in the trees makes me jump. I whirl, brandishing the rod before me like a pathetic rapier. My heart thuds as I scan the woods. A single crepuscular ray breaks through the clouds for a moment, illuminating a ridge dotted with ancient headstones. The wind gusts and swirling mist obscures everything save the red and gold trees. 

Back in the driver’s seat, my hand freezes above the ignition. A chill creeps down my spine and settles into my stomach. that has nothing to do with the temperature outside. I turn the key with trembling fingers, a trickle of relief breaking through my fear as Betty roars to life. I do not check the rearview mirror for the rest of the drive, afraid of locking eyes with whoever has accompanied me. 

Inside the Granite Rose, guests grab glasses of wine and nibble on hors d’oeuvres. The floor-to-ceiling windows turn to mirrors as darkness falls, reflecting and multiplying light and shadow. I glimpse my reflection, but avert my gaze as I see a silhouette, tall and ominous, standing behind me. The stowaway who hitched a ride with me followed me here. 

Lena is waiting for me in the couple’s suite. “Lily! Where were you?” she asks, arms held out. 

I give her a gentle embrace, careful not to crush her gown. 

“I was worried when you didn’t come in with Mom.”

“Sorry,” I say, thrusting bruschetta into her hand. “Eat this. Betty was being difficult again.” 

“You really need a new car,” she replies around a mouthful. 

I kneel to tie her bustle into place. “You’re right.” 

“How do I look?” she asks. 

I fluff her skirts one last time, ignoring the cold prodding of a spectral finger at my back. “Perfect.” 

James, my sister’s new husband, walks in, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. “You are simply gorgeous.” He kisses Lena’s cheek. 

She blushes prettily, and I feel a pang of jealousy at her happiness. The cold finger jabs me again, harder this time, making me startle. “Okay, I’ll see you out there. Make sure she eats more of those,” I instruct, pointing to the plate of appetizers. All the wedding websites said this was the best time for the bride to eat. 

Lena rolls her eyes and shoves another bruschetta into her mouth. James chases it with a kiss, and I leave them to their newlywed bliss. 

I find my seat and sip a glass of chardonnay. The chair next to me scrapes against the wooden floor. I stare straight ahead as a jacket brushes against my arm. A husky voice whispers. Dance with me. 

My chest squeezes and my pulse pounds in my ears. The distorted voice scratches at the edges of my memory. 

Dance with me. 

This one is . . . persistent. But I’m determined to ignore the specter. They usually get bored after a while. 

The DJ asks everyone to take their seats. I make my speech. It’s short. Not too saccharine, but sweet enough to bring tears to Lena’s eyes. As the guests clap politely and I retake my seat, the ghost makes his demand again. Dance with me, Lily.

Sometimes, a boundary must be set when the specters who try to speak to me can’t take a hint. Leave me alone. A laugh caresses the shell of my ear in response, but I feel the presence move away. My shoulders relax. 

After the cake is cut I dance with my sister and the other bridesmaids. I talk with one of James’s brothers, the one Lena is trying to set me up with. I have to admit, he’s cute. The weight of loneliness temporarily eases in his company. He hands me another glass of wine, which promptly shatters in my hand. 

When I glance up to take a proffered napkin, I lock eyes with the ghost who’s been haunting me tonight, and my blood runs cold. Memories flash quickly, taking my breath away as my fingers graze the specter’s. Another party. A refused proposal. Walking home in the snow, guilt-ridden. Missing posters. 

Panic wells, bubbling from my stomach to froth in my throat. My ex’s ghostly face fades into shadow, leaving me wide-eyed and trembling.

Lena and James leave under a shower of sparklers that dance like stars. As the ballroom slowly empties, I stay behind to gather centerpieces and bouquets. The chandeliers flicker. I grab the last box of wedding paraphernalia and march to the parking lot, desperate to be gone. 

The fog has grown thick. Icy drizzle clings to me, raising the hair on my arms and neck. I should have found my car by now. I keep walking, shrouded in mist. I walk for what feels like hours, far longer than the length of the parking lot, but I can’t seem to stop. All I see is the mist. 

An icy hand at my elbow jerks me back into myself. Fear sends pins and needles through me. Pale beams of moonlight break through the fog, revealing hunched shadows. I hear the crash of waves against rock, and recognize the cliff where my sister was married mere hours before. My feet are bare and bloodied. When did I take off my shoes? 

The remaining mist clears in a gust of salty wind, revealing a graveyard. A company of ghosts dressed in their finest waltz between the headstones as moonlight filters through their filmy bodies. 

My pulse races. I turn to flee, but flinch as I hit something that feels like chilled spider webs. 

“Oh, lovely Lily. Lonely and lost. Won’t you dance with me?” 

I am frozen, unbreathing, the sound of surf crashing in my head. Reid stands before me, his once-handsome face gaunt, his cheeks sallow. My throat constricts, and I can’t breathe. He’d wanted to get married. He asked me at a party last winter and I said no. I’d stumbled home in the freezing cold, drunk and alone. If I had known it was the last time that I, or anyone, would have seen him, would I have changed my mind? 

“This should have been our wedding, darling,” Reid whispers, taking my hand. The other ghosts press closer, swirling around us. Reid closes the gap between us. He leers down at me, with a cold, menacing stare. “Stay with me, Lily, and say ‘I do’.”