This is...another collection of Christmas stories. It's actually some of the same stories as in Ghost, but in a present tense.
The pretty, blond haired woman gently laid her hand on the man's forehead. His dark brown hair was matted to his sweaty head, and his normally clear gray eyes were dulled by the fever.
"Oh, honey. You're so hot! Let me get the thermometer." She ran off, leaving the sick man to groan pitifully.
In a few seconds she was back, placing the small plastic stick in his mouth. After a few minutes, she took it out and checked the reading, frowning at what she saw. "Looks like you won't be able to get out of bed today. Maybe by tomorrow you'll feel better. It could only be a twenty-four hour bug, you know."
The man mumbled something.
"What is that, Peter?" she asked, a little smile playing on her face.
"I said: it'll be one lousy Christmas if I'm not," the young scientist announced.
Mary grinned. "You can say that again. Here, let me get you some wet cloths." She turned and flounced out of the room.
Peter Tezla smiled at her bouncy nature, quickly falling back to sleep.
When he woke up a few hours later, he was pushing the covers off, trying to relieve some of the heat. A swishing sound came nearer to his side, and Mary was soon pushing the covers back up.
"No, Peter, you need to keep warm."
"Why?" he mumbled. Then he caught sight of the party dress she was wearing. "Why are you wearing that?"
"What? Oh, this." She blushed slightly. "Well, I was planning on going to the Christmas party we were invited too, but since you're so sick…I'm rethinking that."
Peter shifted slightly, blinking away his sleepiness. "What? No, you can't just not go on my account! Don't let a sicky like me keep you back!"
Mary smiled at him. "And if you get worse?"
Peter smiled back. "I won't. I promise. You go have fun!"
His young wife bit her lip thoughtfully. Finally, she said. "Let me check your temperature one more time, and then I'll decide."
Peter watched her leave the room and then listened for her returning footsteps. He hated being sick. Especially during the holidays. Especially during Christmas. And, he didn't particularly want to keep Mary back from enjoying herself. She so loved Christmas parties, he hated to be a wet blanket.
The swishing of her dress interrupted her thoughts and a thermometer was soon thrust into his mouth. After a few minutes, she pulled it out and checked it.
"Well?" Peter asked when she said nothing for a moment.
"Hm? Oh, it's lower." She answered.
"Then go! Don't let me spoil your evening." Peter said, sitting up.
"I don't know…" Mary bit her lip, and put her finger to her chin.
"Listen, it's not like I can do anything to make it worse! Come on, honey. Just go! I'll survive. If just barely." Peter smiled encouragingly at her.
His young wife smiled a bit, then said. "All right. I'll go. If it'll make you so happy."
"I'm never happy enough without you. But, I'll try to manage."
Mary giggled and kissed him good-bye. "I love you Peter."
Peter smiled back. "I love you too."
Peter woke with a start. The doorbell was ringing, and his first thought was that Mary forgot the keys to the house. She had done that once, and they both had a good laugh from it. He looked up at the clock on the wall, which he could barely make out.
The doorbell rang again, followed by loud knocking.
With a grimace, Peter rose and walked out to the door, still aching with a slight fever. The clock in the kitchen said 12 O'clock, and panic rose slightly when he realized that Mary wasn't in bed when he woke. But he swiftly reminded himself of his earlier thoughts. It could very well be Mary.
Not without hesitation, the young scientist opened the door. It was with shocked silence that he greeted the police officers at the door. Finally, he said, "Can I help you?"
One of the officers, an older man, smiled gently and nodded. "Are you Peter Tezla?"
Peter gulped and nodded.
"May we come in?"
Again, he just nodded. Motioning them to sit down, they politely declined, but Peter sat anyway.
After a moment of silence, the officer said. "I'm sorry sir, but we need you to come down the city morgue."
"The morgue? Why?" Peter felt he knew the answer, but he couldn't bear to say it.
"We believe your wife Mary was in a car accident this evening. We need you to come over and confirm the body."
Numbly, Peter Tezla nodded and excused himself to get dressed. He quietly followed them out, and in a few minutes, they were in the morgue.
On a table not far away, a body lay, covered with a sheet.
Peter looked over his shoulder at the mortician, who was standing nearby. The man nodded, a sympathetic look on his face.
Taking a deep breath, Peter slowly lifted the sheet away from the head. Reverently, he folded it back and studied the face. It was Mary. Unable to contain himself, Peter collapsed into a sobbing heap, the emotions answering the officer's inquiry.
I know...it ended suddenly. But, should that keep you from reviewing? -Jimmy