AFTER THE CREDITS
What happened in each episode of the series after the credits rolled? Two author's take on the subject.
Disclamer for all chapters:
We do not own the Ghost and Mrs. Muir or any of it's characters -- just trying to have a little fun with them, and they will be returned unharmed.
The Pilot
By Kathy
He made sure that Mrs. Muir was peacefully sleeping, and then silently headed to the nursery to check on the children. Like the spirit he was, he entered the room without detection and settled down on the window seat where he could watch both of them equally.
It's good to have children in the house, he thought. He had built this room for children after all. He had often imagined them, a boy, naturally, and then a girl. A man wasn't really a man without a son, but he had always favored little girls. He had yearned to teach his son his craft; to know that everything he had worked hard for would be taken care of, as it should be. He had wanted a son to carry on the name of Gregg and to make him proud.
He had longed for a girl, too, pink and pretty, that he could spoil and shower with gifts; to have her crawl up on his knee at night and hug him tight. He would have killed the lads when they had started to gather around his daughter, and even the one he gave her to would have needed to watch his step.
Two fine young children. It had been his dream.
And yet here they were. No, they weren't his, this was true. They belonged to their beautiful sleeping mother and a man he may never know anything about. The boy had been easy to convince of his existence. The girl was not ready, but perhaps someday she would be aware of him.
He turned to look at the lad, noticing his fine features — so much like his mother's. He was small, but a few weeks in the good salt air would take care of that. And so would the housekeeper's cooking, he gathered. He would look forward to spending time with the child, Jonathan; he had heard his sister call him. Fine name.
He repositioned, the better to see the girl. Her eyes were scrunched tight and she held tightly to her pillow. Somewhere he had a doll, one he had bought in England for a friend's little girl, a pretty toy with black curls and a smiling china head. He must remember to look for it and leave it where the lass would be sure to find it. He liked the idea of her having it. She let out a small sigh in her sleep and rolled over. Small hands like her mother's. He usually detested the way women today cut their hair until it was hardly visible, but the short bob fit the girl's pixie face.
"Don't be afraid of me," he said gently. "Even though you don't know I am here, yet, lass, I will be waiting for when you are ready to find me." The pillow fell out of her bed and he hurriedly put it back where it was. She continued to sleep.
"I look forward to our adventures together," he addressed the boy now. "I feel you are a kindred spirit."
His family. No, he would never admit it, but he was glad they were here. All of them. It was a new beginning for all of them.