There was a curious sound that the ghost did not immediately recognize. He could easily identify the approaching footsteps and the voice that called out Morningway's name. But there was a third noise of some sort, a kind of gurgling that seemed familiar, but one that he could not quite pinpoint.
He heard an impatient sigh finally cut through the air and the feminine voice that had called out for Justin switch gears. "Could you come out a moment, please?"
That was for him.
In a few seconds, the spirit pushed itself out of the bony prison and materialized beside it. As he'd expected, Morningway's sister was standing in front of him. It had been almost a year since he'd seen her, but the tall dark-haired woman was as striking as ever, though she did appear a little tired and currently wore a mildly annoyed expression. By her foot was a large, cloth bag decorated with a friendly-looking yellow duck that was practically ripping at the seams with its contents. In her arms she held a pile of blankets from which the earlier gurgling sound now transformed into a tiny unhappy cry. When a small fist rose up from the blue sheets to grab at the leather necklace around Margaret's neck, the ghost realized it was a baby.
Margaret adjusted her grip with surprising ease as the child kicked and flailed within its soft confines, making sure she was in no danger of dropping the precious bundle. But the baby's movements were successful in knocking down at least one blanket, allowing the ghost to get a better view.
The spirit had little experience with babies. Even when he'd been alive he'd had no interest in observing the small things, who'd all looked the same to him. The one in Margaret Morningway's arms, with its tuft of dark hair and energetically flailing limbs looked identical to the other handful of babies he'd ever encountered.
"Where is my brother?" asked Margaret, tucking the child closer to herself. "He asked for me to meet him at the house."
"He had a meeting with the High Council this morning," the ghost informed, having to raise his voice a little as the baby's whimpers got louder. "I expect he'd be returning soon."
Margaret blew out a puff of exasperated air. "He knows I don't have time for this," she muttered. She swayed slightly where she stood in efforts to calm the baby, who continued to cry in a way that threatened a much larger tantrum was on the horizon. She carefully eyed the ghost who continued to stand a few feet away from her. Despite being used to how the air changed whenever he appeared, she could still feel the silent howling emanating from the trapped spirit. "You're frightening him," she stated with a cold frown. "Do you think you could...?"
"My apologies, mistress."
Instantly the air around them grew warmer and the sensation of despair lessened considerably. In her arms, Margaret's son finally quieted and almost immediately turned his attention back to the necklace around his mother's neck again. She smiled down as the dark eyes lit up with unabashed happiness as it tugged at the soft jewelry. "There now. Better?" she said to him, softly. He replied by giving the leather necklace a joyful pull, accompanied by a pleasant gurgle. "He's a very grabby child," she said to the ghost, explaining her son's behavior with a kind of absent happiness that infected most first mothers. It was the first time she'd spoken to the spirit in a manner that was almost warm rather than officious.
And while the experience was not all together unpleasant, the unfamiliar strangeness of it made the ghost inwardly grimace. "Do you require any other assistance, mistress?" he asked, politely.
"Do you know when exactly my brother will be returning?" she asked.
"He mentioned a dinner with the governor this evening at the house," the ghost recalled. "I am sure he'd return before then to get ready."
"That could be two hours from now," Margaret sighed, knowing when Justin usually took dinner. "He said it was important. I suppose I'll have to wait," she mused, half to herself. "Harry's due for a nap in half an hour, though. Aren't you, Harry?" Two small hands clapped together at that, provoking an adoring smile from her. "You love naps."
Shifting from his spot at the display of parental affection, the ghost coughed quietly as if to ask if he was required any longer. Harry roved his head a little at the noise, noticing the tall, white-haired man for the first time. He squirmed again in his mother's arms and stuck out a small hand from the blanket to try and reach toward the figure.
"I think he likes your ascot," said Margaret, nodding at the dark red fabric around the ghost's neck. Much to the spirit's surprise, she walked over to where he stood, as if to give the child a better chance at grasping him.
Up close, the ghost realized that Margaret Morningway's son had her eyes. The dark brown orbs twinkled with a kind of mischievous light, the only difference being they were completely undiluted by any sort of wariness the spirit could see in the mother. The tiny fingers reached out again to take a firm hold of the red ascot, only to have them pass through it. A confused frown appeared on the small face as he tried again with the same result. The spirit took a step back in fear the child might start crying again, but the effect seemed to please Harry a great deal who laughed with delight and began to wave his hands all the more toward the ghost.
"He likes you," Margaret noted with a small grin.
"I believe he is enjoying my non-corporeal state," the ghost quietly corrected. But he gamely held up an index finger that Harry attempted to grasp with little success and great amusement.
"He enjoys grabbing things, but he seems to like it more when he can't quite get at them," said Margaret, fondly. She glanced at the clock on the library wall. "I'll have to set him down for his nap here if I'm to wait for Justin." She knelt down in the middle of the large library, placing the pile of blankets on the plush carpets of the floor and putting Harry on top of the blankets. "Now," she said to her son. "You be a good boy and stay here. Don't kick out of your blankets. And don't crawl all about the place," she ordered, in a tone that suggested she was well-aware he would be doing just that the second she let go of him.
Watching her son easily roll over, a tender look passed on Margaret's face. She bent down and lightly blew on the top of his head, making the fine hairs on his head stand up and sway. A happy expression spread across Harry's face at the gesture. Giving him a last smile, she stood quickly to rummage through the large bag she'd brought with her for extra blankets and a small rolled up mattress.
The ghost observed as Harry did ignore his mother's request and began to energetically crawl toward him. The spirit stepped forward and met the baby more than halfway in hopes to try and keep the child from moving around too much. Harry looked up at him with an expectant expression, which the ghost returned with a blank one of his own. It seemed the baby was waiting for him to do something.
After a few seconds of playing the staring contest, Harry seemed to grow bored and attempted to crawl around the ghost. Quickly, the spirit stepped to his right as if to block the child's progress, but he only passed through the ghostly shoe without pausing.
"He…um…appears to be moving," said the ghost to Margaret.
Margaret looked up from tucking a large blanket around the mattress to see the beginnings of her son's exploration of the library floor. "It's alright. He likes to move around," she said, seeing how Harry was still on the carpet and that nothing was on the floor that could potentially hurt him. "I'm nearly done. Watch him a moment, please. See he doesn't get into any trouble."
In the ghost's opinion, the baby was safest if he was immobilized from moving around so much. But seeing as how he was in no position to take hold of the small thing, he instead walked around to stand in front of Harry. The baby again stared up at him with an expectant expression, as if waiting for some entertainment to happen. Crouching down closer to him, the spirit knew he had about a five second window to come up with something interesting. Not being able to think of anything else, the ghost raised his hand and drew a small star in the air to hover just in front of the baby.
As he'd done with everything else, Harry immediately made a grab for it and the image disappeared in a small shower of golden lights the second his fingers made contact. Upon watching the last of the sparks vanish into the floor, Harry looked up from the carpet back to the ghost with wide eyes before giving a gleeful cry. He slapped his hand on the carpet and the spirit guessed if Harry could talk he'd be shrieking, "More! More! More!"
Obligingly, he drew a few more stars, followed by a balloon and what could pass for a cat. All of which Harry took great delight in reaching for and watching shatter into sparks. Observing the baby happily play, the ghost didn't realize he was almost smiling at the spectacle. Nor did he notice the slightly surprised look Margaret Morningway was giving him.
Having finished her task in setting up a makeshift bed for her son, Margaret watched as the always taciturn spirit entertained her child. She'd thought the ghost would only simply watch and warn her should Harry start crawling toward something potentially harmful. She hadn't expected him to be actually playing with her son. But seeing the ghost draw a duck for Harry, similar to the one on her baby bag, a soft smile crossed Margaret's lips.
He's rather good with him.
THE END