Author's Note: Friday night is film night in my house. Some time ago, I chose the film "Ghost," which is the inspiration for this story. It may be sad in places, but I want to have some romance between Mater and Holley too. I hope you like it. Sorry for the long wait.

Malley: Ghost Truck

The voice on the other end of the radio was high-pitched and weary.

"Listen, here's what happened. My husband and I were supposed to be driving to the Grand Canyon, but then the genius said his GPS knew a shortcut that wasn't on our paper map. So we drove for a long time off-road, and I wanted to stop for fuel, but the moron kept going-"

"Come on, Minny," a man butted in, "I have a name, you know! It's Van!"

"Shush, dear, I'm on the radio," hissed the woman. "Anyway, we're stuck in the desert with no fuel and we need a tow into town. Can you help?"

"Of course. I'll be right there."

. . .

Flying came naturally to Holley Shiftwell. All she had to do was pop out her wings and she was ready for take-off. But when Holley flew, she would always feel a sense of wonder at the freedom she had. She could go up or down, turn left or right – it was her choice. Every experience in the air was slightly different, but never boring. No wonder Mater had taken to flying like an aquaplane to water. He was always seeking a new adventure.

Mater. . .

No, Holley. Don't think about him. This isn't personal; it's business.

The Jaguar focused on the ground below. To her right and left were dusty cliffs, and golden sand stretched out before her. The heat of the sun, combined with radiation from the silica below, would have been stifling for someone who hadn't lived in Arizona for two years as Holley had done. As it was, Holley welcomed the heat.

It meant she could feel something.

At last she spied the two cars she was looking for, and swooped in low. Both were Chauncey motors, one pink and one green. When Minny, the pink car, spotted Holley landing, she gasped happily. "Here she is," she sighed, "our guardian angel!"

Holley chuckled. "I wouldn't call myself an angel as such. But still, I'm here now."

Driving to a space just behind the two cars, Holley grabbed their bumpers with her grappling hooks. "I must warn you, we're going to be very high up-"

"Who cares?" grumbled Van. "I just want some fuel!"

"Well, maybe if you'd listened to me," Minny snapped, "we could be in a nice little café, sipping oil without a care in the world-"

Holley couldn't listen to this. She launched herself into the air, not concerned by the quick screams behind her. Pretty soon, she was back where she belonged – with her hood in the clouds, and two frightened and exhilarated cars in tow.

. . .

Back in Radiator Springs, Van and Minny were sitting under the shade of Flo's V8 Café, drinking from the same can of Dinoco. Holley had watched them get through lots of cans by now; this was their eighth. Gas-guzzlers, she thought. If they weren't my customers, I wouldn't still be watching.

Minny looked up from her drink long enough to see that Holley was still there. "We can't thank you enough," she gushed. "I know you must get this all the time – I mean, it's your job – but if it wasn't for you, I don't know what we'd be doing right now."

"Bickering, probably," said Van.

Minny kicked Van with her tyre, frowning and smiling at the same time. Immediately Holley was struck with the image of a happily-married couple, a couple who sometimes bickered and always loved each other. It was the kind of thing that Holley hadn't experienced yet.

Maybe she never would.

"You've still got that dent, haven't you?" asked Van suddenly.

Holley glanced to her side. A deep crinkle was embedded in her body work. "Yes, it's still there."

"From when you swooped in to save your boyfriend?" Van teased.

Minny giggled. "Van, please!"

Holley felt something like sadness rise in her mouth, but she swallowed and forced it down. "That's right," she said quietly. "Well, enjoy your meal. I have some paperwork to take care of."

She turned, ignoring Minny's friendly goodbyes, and trundled back to the scrap yard. Yes, that was her home now – piles of metal and other junk, surrounded by a measly wooden fence. Instead of a house, there was a large, rickety shack. Instead of a grand archway, two poles held up the silhouette of a winged tow truck, emblazoned with the words: "Tow Mater's Aerodynamic Towing and Salvage."

Mater wasn't there.

. . .

The closest thing Holley had to being with Mater was visiting his statue, which she did that night, after the rest of the town had gone to sleep. Mater's statue had been placed next to that of Stanley, the town's founder, about a month after the incident. Beneath the bronze tow truck was carved a single phrase into the metallic plaque: "Dad-Gum!"

A fitting epitaph.

The neon lights advertising Radiator Springs' assorted businesses had long been turned off. Only the broken traffic light was still illuminating the town, the amber light blinking on and off, on and off, on . . . and off. . . Holley noticed that every third blink was slower. With every blink, some light bounced off her engagement ring on her left side mirror. The ring contained a once-beautiful diamond, now turning a garish orange in the unforgiving light.

Holley sighed and tried to focus on the statue. Her eyes ran over every single detail – the wonky wing mirrors, the lack of a bonnet, the gaping hole where his headlight should have been. She finally came to rest on his buck teeth, so big a plane could have landed on them. He was giving a goofy grin to no-one in particular.

When did I last smile like that?

Holley's mind wandered back to the last night of his life. There had been a karaoke night at Flo's V8 Café, and she had performed a duet with her boyfriend. That was the night when he proposed. That was the night when the Lemons showed up. That was the nightmare.

"You like potato . . ." Holley whispered now.

She paused. No-one else joined in.

"You like Tow Mater . . ." she continued.

The statue looked down on her and said nothing.

"Potato . . ."

Mater was still smiling.

"Tow Mater . . ."

Holley bit her lip, and then finished:

"Let's call the whole thing off . . ."

She broke down. Thick tears slid down her fenders. Her body shuddered with sobs. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them with a gasp. It was no use. She had too much sadness in her. It had to come out, or she would go mad. Perhaps she had gone mad. Singing to a statue. . . Holley sobbed, louder this time. She didn't care if she woke anyone. She was past caring.

"What's wrong?"

The sudden voice made Holley jump. She swung round to see –

"A ghost!"

Mater's eyes widened. "Huh? Where?" He caught a glimpse of himself in the plaque and screamed. "Aah! A ghost!"

"Mater, you're the ghost!" Holley panted fearfully.

Mater chuckled. "Ah know Ah'm a ghost, Ah'm jes' yankin' yer chain!" To prove it, he quickly reversed through the statue and sped around the town, driving through any obstacles in his path and whooping with crazy joy. When he finally reappeared in front of Holley, she just stared at him.

Her fiancé was here again. She couldn't believe it.

"Where have you been?" she asked at last.

"Well, first Ah done gone lookin' fur Grem n' Acer – ya know, dem Lemons what done killed me-"

He stopped looking at Holley at this point and stared into the distance. "Ah found 'em on an oil rig, and Ah said, 'Hey, it's me, the one you done killed!' And they kinda freaked out and drove inta the sea."

Holley frowned. "Was that the reaction you intended?"

Mater shook his hood. "No, Ah was gonna make 'em apologise and tell 'em tuh stay away from mah girlfriend. But hey, they ain't gonna bother us now."

"Us?" Holley was confused. "What are we, exactly?"

Mater had no reply. He stared at the ground and scraped his tyre across the sand.

"I mean, marriage is out of the question now," Holley continued, glancing at her engagement ring. "You're dead."

Mater looked Holley in the eyes. Holley had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. They were green, just like her own, but while her eyes had been compared to emeralds, Mater's eyes were more the colour of yellowing grass. Even so, Holley lost herself in those eyes every time.

"Who knows what we're gonna do?" Mater asked. "Let's jes' see how it goes. We don' have tuh plan ev'rything."

"Maybe not."

Holley bit her lip before continuing, "Can I kiss you?"

"Uh . . . I dunno," Mater replied dumbly. "Ah've never tried it."

"I should hope not!" Holley said.

The couple laughed together. When they stopped, they gazed at each other for a few more seconds. Mater closed his eyes. So did Holley. She leaned in, hoping to feel his lips . . .

. . . and she was struck with a very strange sensation. Mater's dead body was cold against her lips. But beneath that, she could feel his presence, the memories they'd shared, the warmth of his very self. After a year without him, it was a pleasant oxymoron.

Finally, they pulled apart. Holley grinned.

"You like potato," she sang.

"And you like potahto," Mater joined in.

"You like Tow Mater,"

"And you like tomato,"

"Potato,"

"Potahto,"

"Tow Mater,"

"Tomato,"

"Let's call the whole thing off!" they sang together.

"But oh! If we call the whole thing off,

Then we must part,

And oh! If we ever part,

Then that might break my heart!"

Holley didn't care if anyone in the town heard her singing with a ghost. She had Mater. Mater had her. That was all she needed for now.

"For we know we need each other,

So we better call the calling off off –

Let's call the whole thing off!"