Secret Hollows by Terri Reid Read Free Book Online Page A

pillow. “Fine,” she grumbled. “No, I never saw the whole movie, only the part where Mel Gibson… well, you know.”
    “Aye, that was a good part,” he agreed, walking back over to her bed, snowball in hand. “But I’m afraid you missed the most important part of the movie. The part that might have saved you a bit of grief today.”
    He stood over her, his hands inches over her head.
    “What?” she asked impatiently, turning towards him.
    “Don’t mess with a Scotsman,” he said, dropping the snow on her upturned face.
    “Ian!” she screamed, sitting upright in the bed and wiping melting snow from her face. “I can’t believe you did that!”
    Grinning, he wiped his cold hands on his sweat pants. “Oh, you cannae ? Well, perhaps I’m not quite myself being awakened in the middle of the night.”
    Mary turned and scooped the remaining pile of snow into her hands. “It wasn’t the middle of the night!” she yelled, whipping the small snowball at him and hitting him in his bare stomach.
    “Cripes, that’s cold!” he yelled, wiping it off.
    “You think?” she asked, jumping from her bed and running to the open window.
    “Mary… no,” Ian called out.
    But it was too late. Mary, hands filled with snow, was already lobbing snowballs at him.
    Ian dodged the first two attempts, then jumped across her bed and headed to the window on the other side of the room. He lifted it up and started to pack a new snowball, when he was hit on the side of the head and dropped it on the floor. He picked it up and threw it at her, catching her mid-toss. Ian’s snowball hit the one Mary was going to throw and the two exploded all over her.
    She reached back and scooped more snow.
    “Yeah, I knew you were a fighter,” the ghost from the day before, appeared in the middle of the room.
    Startled, Ian turned toward the man. Mary whipped her snowball at Ian and caught him in the middle of the chest.
    “And you’re a dirty fighter too,” the ghost chuckled.
    Mary grinned. “I’m not a dirty fighter,” she replied. “I’m just a fighter who takes advantage of every opportunity.”
    “Um, Mary, would you mind introducing me to your friend?” Ian asked, wiping the snow from his body.
    Shaking her head, Mary turned to the ghost. “I don’t think we’ve actually been properly introduced.”
    “I’m Ernie,” the ghost said, his face breaking into a wide smile. “And I have to assume you’re her boyfriend.”
    “Ach, no,” Ian said. “I’m just here to study paranormal phenomenon with her. So, you know you’re a ghost?”
    “What is it with you people?” he asked. “Do you run into a lot of ghosts who think they’re house plants?”
    Mary laughed, “No, but we run into a lot of ghosts who don’t know they’re dead,” she said. “It makes it difficult to help them when they don’t think they need help.”
    Ernie nodded. “Okay, that makes sense,” he said. “So, how are you studying paranormal phenomenon by running around her bedroom half-dressed?”
    “We were having a cultural discussion,” Mary answered. “He was demonstrating that the Scots were dirty fighters and I was establishing that the Irish could kick their butts in any fight.”
    “Ah, darling, I don’t think you’d really proven your point,” Ian argued calmly. “Unless your point was the Irish were insensitive clods who cheat at every chance they get.”
    She stepped back toward the window. “Would you like to continue our discussion?”
    “Yeah, well, you ain’t got time for any more discussion, sister,” Ernie interrupted. “You and me got a date with some weights. We gotta get you in shape and the sooner the better.”
    “But it’s not seven yet,” she argued. “And it’s snowing outside.”
    “Yeah, and it looks like it’s snowing inside too,” he agreed. “What’s that got to do with it?”
    “I can’t drive in this weather.”
    “Aye, ‘tis the truth,” Ian said. “She can’t drive in most