I buried my head in my hands as the tears fell faster. I didn’t care that my mascara was running or that I was probably getting grass stains on the dress that I’d found so beautiful. All I could think about were Allan’s words, tumbling over and over in my mind. He’d yelled at me. He’d said so many horrible things.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. None of it made any sense! It had all happened so fast. Allan just snapped. Had I said something wrong? He had to know that all this time I’d only wanted to help him! I leaned my head back against the fence post. I wanted to yell out in frustration. I was so angry and hurt and confused and it seemed like all I could do was cry.

“I’d kill him if I could,” a voice growled beside me.

I turned my head to see Greg kneeling in front of me. His face was a mask of rage.

“I bet you would,” I croaked. My voice sounded strangely hollow. “You’d love to get in another duel with an Englishman.”

His dark eyes met mine. “It’s far more than that, Lady Jess,” he said. “The way he acted was dishonorable and unforgivable.”

My chin quivered. “He was right,” I whispered. “I guess I don’t get it. I guess I don’t know him like I thought I did.” A few more tears streaked down my face. “It’s like my mom all over again. I didn’t do enough and I didn’t try hard enough! I couldn’t help either of them and now Allan’s pushed me away. He doesn’t want to see me again!”

“That boy is a fool,” Greg spat, “if he cannot see how earnestly you care for him.”

I shivered as a breeze rippled through the grass, carrying with it the faraway sounds of the fair. “I just don’t understand it,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. He was lashing out for a reason. Was it really because he thinks I treat everything like a joke? Am I that insensitive?”

Greg shook his head as he leaned closer to me. “You often put on an air of indifference, Lady Jessica, but I know how deeply you feel everything around you. You are compassionate, even to those who deserve no compassion. That is why you are such a dear friend to me.”

I gave him a withering glance. “You’re friends with me because you’re stuck here and you’re bored. That’s all.”

“You’re wrong,” he said firmly.

Pushing away from the fence post, I sat up a little bit straighter. “Am I though?” I asked, “because I don’t think I am. Real friends talk to each other, they know things about each other. The most I know about you is that you’re Scottish and you died in a fight. That’s it! I don’t know what your favorite food was, or what colors you like, and I definitely don’t know why you were killed because you don’t really see me as a friend!”

Greg stared at me for such a long time that it was hard to keep eye contact. I wasn’t sure if I meant everything I said, but my emotions were a mess right now. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to feel angry and sorry for myself.

A little smile lifted the corner of Greg’s mouth. “My favorite food was bread,” he whispered at last. I gave a tearstained laugh in spite of myself.

“It is a simple food, I know,” he said, “but when it is still hot and you tear a piece off and lather it in butter, there is nothing more delicious in all the world.” He was still staring at me, his gaze warm and concerned. “My favorite color is the yellow of a pasture when the sun is just coming up and setting the whole world ablaze. Though,” he added with a chuckle, “I am growing quite fond of the color your face turns when you become frustrated with me as well.”

I laughed again as fresh tears escaped my eyes. I’d been an idiot to think that Greg wasn’t the best friend anyone could ask for.

“And finally,” he said, his voice growing solemn, “there is the pain that I carry with me, the pain I have carried for centuries. I did not tell you, for I was afraid of losing your friendship. I was afraid that you would be disgusted with what I had done, and you would leave me abandoned.”

I could only stare as his eyes grew wet.

“I could not risk losing your friendship, Lady Jess,” he whispered, “for after so long, you have made me feel alive again, like a human instead of a monster.” He stared at me, his dark eyes pleading. “I told you once that you reminded me of my sister, my sister whom I loved more than life.” His voice was barely audible. “My sister whose death I caused.”

Silver tears coursed down his cheeks. I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t know what to say. The only thought that occupied my mind was how strange it was that ghosts could cry. I’d never seen Greg look so pained. I yearned to reach out and comfort him, but I knew if I did that, I would only feel empty air.

“Like you,” murmured Greg, “she had fallen in love, and it was an Englishman to whom she’d given her heart.” He closed his eyes tight. “I was furious. Our father and brother had died in a war against them and she was going to marry one.” His appearance flickered.

“I was blinded by my rage. I swore that either he or I would die before I saw my sister wed him. And so, I challenged him to a duel.” Greg slowly opened his eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking, challenging a man my sister loved. I didn’t consider the pain it would cause her, losing either of us. I could only care about what I thought was right!”

He took a deep breath and I hugged my knees to my chest. “The day of the duel arrived. My sister begged me not to go through with it and she begged her love not to fight, but we were both too consumed by our anger. We fought. I wounded him, and I thought I would win. In my confidence I grew careless, and he ran me through with his sword.”

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I saw his eyes widen.

“I remember how it felt,” he choked, raising a hand to his chest. “I remember the pain and the heat of the blood pouring out of me. And then it got cold. It got so terribly cold.” His hand began to tremble. “I stared down at my body, at the wound in my chest and as my sister wept and held me, I felt a fury like none I had ever felt. There was something tugging at my soul, urging me to move on, but I couldn’t. The thought of letting go, and letting that English snake win, drove me utterly mad.”

His voice fell to a horrified whisper. “I haunted my sword. My soul clung to it and I lingered in my sister’s home. I saw her marry the Englishman, despite his hand in my death, and I came to despise her for it. As time passed, she grew to see me as you do now.” He bowed his head in shame. “I tormented her Jessica. I haunted her dreams and cursed her for marrying the English swine. She was in so much pain at seeing me that every night I could hear her frantic prayers. Her tears fell like rain as she prayed for my soul to find peace.”

Greg pursed his lips for a moment, as if fighting his emotions. “I felt joy in the sight of her anguish,” he choked. “I felt justified in the pain I caused her! I had utterly lost myself.”

He leaned back, his eyes meeting mine. “One night, she could not take the pain any longer. Seeing me everywhere was driving her to madness and though her English husband swore to her that I was dead and gone, she wasn’t so certain.” He let out a shaky breath. “She went to the place I was buried one night. She went out in the middle of a storm. With her bare hands she tore at the muddy earth, looking for evidence that I was truly dead. She did not get far before her husband found her and brought her inside, but it was already too late.” Greg’s voice grew empty and detached. “She grew sick and soon after, she perished.”

His words came to a halt and a long silence dragged on between us. There was nothing I could say. My own feelings of heartbreak over Allan seemed so insignificant now.

“I thought,” he gasped, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I thought I would be happy! I was monstrous enough to think that I would be happy! With her death, her union to the Englishman was broken, and I thought my haunting would be over.” He glanced up at the starry sky. “It wasn’t.”

“You see, she moved on after she died,” he continued. “She fell ill and then faded away, with no reason to remain tethered here. I know not what awaits me after my soul leaves this realm, if I am destined for Heaven or for Hell, but I know that she is waiting for me.” His eyes met mine. “That is why I am trapped here Jessica. I cannot move on. I cannot face her with the guilt that I drove her to such desperation. What I did can never hope for forgiveness.”

Reaching out, Greg rested his hand upon mine. It felt like a breath of cool air. “I have now told you all,” he whispered, “and I hope that you never again doubt that you are my dearest and truest friend. You have been a light to me Jessica. You have given me a hope that maybe my own sister could forgive me, impossible though it may seem.”

I cleared my throat, unable to trust my voice. “I’m so sorry Greg, for everything you’ve gone through.”

“And I am sorry for you,” he responded, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “Allan is entirely senseless if he cannot see the good within you. Be stronger than me, be stronger than all of us. Do not let the actions of others haunt you.” He rose to his feet. “Now get thee inside,” he said softly, “before you catch your death of cold.”

Shakily, I rose to my feet, brushing bits of grass off my dress. As I started walking toward the castle, Greg fell in step beside me.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I smiled at him. “Thank you for everything.”

***

The next week was awful. The fair was still going and I still had to help. Every time I saw a couple holding hands it was just another reminder of everything Allan had said to me. Then of course, I would see him occasionally too. It was always from a distance, and even if I gathered up the courage to try and go talk to him, he would avoid me.

When the fair ended, I went back to cleaning rooms like usual. One of the nights, when I went to the great hall for dinner, I saw Allan in the midst of a show. A part of me was tempted to just eat my food and go, but another part of me wanted to wait around and talk to him. I wanted to get a few straight answers from him, but I was afraid that he’d freak out again.

I watched him as I ate my food. He seemed off tonight. His jokes were falling flat and his smiles seemed forced. I was worried about him. His performance ended earlier than usual and when he stepped off the stage, he ignored the kids who ran up to talk to him. Something was really wrong.

I could see him heading straight out of the great hall, so I jumped up from my seat and ran to catch up to him. When he saw me coming he looked the other way, but I wasn’t about to let him get away so easily.

“Allan!” I called out just as he reached the archway. I was afraid that he’d just keep walking, but he hesitated and turned toward me.

“What?” he asked.

For a moment I was rendered speechless. Up on stage he hadn’t looked quite like himself, but up close he looked absolutely awful. His eyes were circled with dark bruises, and if it were possible, he looked even paler than before.

“Um, I, uh,” I stammered, trying to collect my thoughts, “I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to ask you about the other night—”

“I have nothing else to say to you,” he said, turning away.

I ran around to face him. “I beg to differ,” I said, feeling angry. “I’m really worried about you Allan. You look awful. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his eyes. “I know you’re just trying to help,” he said, “and I appreciate that, but please Jessica, I need some time alone. I’ve got—I’ve got a bunch of stuff I need to figure out.”

“You could have just told me that a few nights ago,” I said defiantly, “instead of blowing up like you did.”

He shook his head. His shoulders were drooped, like there was a terrible weight pressing him down. “I’m sorry about that Jessi, I really am,” he breathed. “I lost it and I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was way out of line.”

I stared up at him, waiting for him to say something more. He didn’t. “But,” I began slowly, “you still don’t want to see me anymore.”

He shrugged, looking anywhere but at me. “The summer’s ending soon anyway,” he muttered. “Maybe this is for the best.” He finally met my eyes and gave me a tight smile. “Thank you for all the adventures.” He stuck out his hand.

Feeling stung, I reached out and shook it. His hand was freezing cold. “You’re welcome,” I whispered. “I wish you the best luck with everything.”

“You too,” he said blandly as he pulled his hand from mine and walked off.