Gray Skies Bring Smiles

The morning fog covered most of Carmel (and the fact that it was raining didn't help either); the prospect of having any kind of fun seemed low, until I saw a shimmer out of the corner of my eye. It was Jesse, coming for another visit. He materialized at the window seat, where I was.

Jesse was allowed to see me once every day, according to Father Dominic. Sometimes he liked to sneak over and see me--well, to be honest, he didn't have to sneak; it's not as if Father Dominic could tell where Jesse went whenever he dematerialized. My day instantly brightened, in spite of the fog and rare case of rain outside on a Saturday in otherwise sunny Carmel, California. I mean, rain in Carmel is like New Year's Eve in Manhattan--only the tourists are brave enough to venture out. It's kind of pathetic. I mean, native Californians surf and brave earthquakes, but God forbid it should rain.

It was a gray day, the kind that made people feel sluggish and sleepy, an otherwise depressing day for me.

But Jesse was there, and as long as he wasn't there to say good-bye--and it was a depressing day, why not have a depressing event happen? But he assured me he wasn't leaving any time soon--he would make it a good day, in spite of the weather.

"Good morning, Susannah," Jesse said, smiling at me. I guess he was as glad to see me as I was to see him. Ever since that day in the graveyard by his grave, things had been much less awkward between us, except for whenever he remembered why we shouldn't have been together--in his opinion, anyway. It didn't matter to me that he was a ghost, and that we basically had no future together whatsoever.

I loved him, and for the moment, that's all that mattered to me.

"Good morning, Jesse," I said, trying to sound sophisticated. It didn't work. Instead, it came out squeaky. Swell.

If he noticed the squeak in my voice, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just took his hand in mine, and we continued to stare out at the rain.

"Susannah," he said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "You and I both know this won't…"

work. He didn't say it, but that's what he meant. He was going to say that we both knew that a relationship between us would never work out to anything except heartbreak and ruined lives. Both of us heartbroken and my life ruined. He was wrong. It would work, somehow. I just knew it would. Paul and I had made that agreement--that Paul was to leave Jesse alone if I let him teach me stuff about shifters or mediators, whatever--and so far, Paul had been true to his word. Father Dominic had agreed--albeit reluctantly, and with a huge lecture on just why any kind of relationship with Jesse would be ruinous for all involved--that Jesse and I were allowed to see each other, once a day, but everyday, except in cases of dire emergency, such as a ghost that spoke only Spanish or whatever.

I sighed. I wished he'd just stop thinking and start kissing me. "Jesse, let's not talk about this, please. I know all that, but it doesn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to you. If I can't be with you, I won't want to get married, and I won't want children."

"Susannah…" he said, sighing.

"Jesse, I'm serious," I said.

"I know you are, and that's what really bothers me, Susannah. You know that nothing between us will ever work, yet you insist upon…loving me…I'm touched, Susannah, but I cannot allow this to happen. It's irresponsible. I love you, but I shouldn't, and it hurts."

He'd said it. He'd never said it before, and it had slipped out this time, even if he was lecturing me on why a love between us would never survive.

But he'd said it. He said he loved me. Jesse had shown it in his actions, but never had he put it in words.

"It's okay, Jesse. Don't worry about it." I sighed. "'Everything will be fine at the end. If things aren't fine, then it isn't the end,'" I said, quoting a very wise person I'd heard say those words before. I didn't know how those words really applied to my situation with Jesse, but they were better than If you love something, set it free. If it was meant to be, it will come back to you because that poem completely sucked. At least the person I quoted was smart.

"You think so?" he asked. He was smiling now, something I rarely saw him do.

"Yes," I said.

Then he kissed me, and I knew he wouldn't worry anymore, or at least not right then.

I hoped I was right, and I hoped that the person I quoted was right, too.

Just after Jesse kissed me, I looked out the window.

It had stopped raining.


This was a submission to a challenge on the Haunted forum on MCBC. The italicized words at the beginning were the words of the required premise.

The title is my own little allusion to the Smashing Pumpkins song "Blue Skies Bring Tears."

The quote Suze gave Jesse was given to me by Clavel! Go Clavie (and if you're reading this, I hope you don't mind that I quoted you)!