When Duncan goes away on his business trips, he thinks that his family is happily settled at home. But when he returns, he discovers that his daughter has been seeing ghosts and there’s an unknown man hiding in his closet. Who is the man and what is he doing there?
Is his wife having an affair? My wife, Emmie, and I have been together for fifteen years. And in those fifteen years, we have spun an entire life together—weaving in the joys and tribulations of family.
And through the years, we have been blessed with our daughter, Leila—a bright-eyed ten-year-old who filled our days with the laughter and curiosity that only a child can summon. Life was perfectly ordinary in the best way—until Leila started talking about a ghost. It began as a harmless tale spun by Leila.
At least, at the time, I thought that it was just my daughter’s imagination running wild. As a businessman, constant traveling was a normal occurrence for me. Emmie and I were used to navigating our lives according to my schedule.
At first, I thought that she would give me a difficult time about it—unsure of how we would build a life together while I was packing up and leaving every few weeks. “Your job is important,” Emmie said. “And sure, it takes you away from us from time to time, Duncan.
But it’s worth it because you enjoy what you do.”
I didn’t expect her to understand. But I should have known; my wife wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met. So, when my partner at the firm told me that we needed to travel to another state for a business meeting with new investors, I was settled in the fact that my wife and daughter would be home and settled in their routine.
“How long will you be gone this time?” Emmie asked me as she prepared dinner. “Just over a week,” I said, picking at the jar of roasted nuts we had on the counter. “That’s not too bad,” she said, smiling.
“You’ll be back before we know it.”
It would have been so easy to think that my wife wanted me to stay away—that she reveled in the distance between us. But when she helped me pack, ensuring that there were treats tucked into my suitcase, I knew that she was everything Leila and I needed her to be. “Yes,” I said.
“But will you manage with Leila after school? I could ask my mom.”
Emmie chuckled. We both know that my mother loved Leila—she loved being a grandmother but on her own terms.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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