“The house is so beautiful Dad.”

Michaela stood there on the upper balcony, looking across at the avenue of maple trees, stretching as they did towards the distant roadway. Not far short of twilight now, the cool breeze made her shiver. She turned and glanced up at her father, whose hands rested gently on her shoulders.

“Do you really think we will be able to get it?”

The man inclined his head. Her words interrupted his thought-processes. In terms of “being beautiful,” was not the vision of youthful innocence cuddled now in his arms, the alpha and omega of achievable feminine beauty? That he loved her to distraction was merely how it was. She alone had provided the solace and will to go on, after his wife had lost her protracted encounter with cervical cancer not sixteen months earlier. Eighteen now and in her final year of High School, she was everything a parent might hope for - academically proficient, domestically accomplished and socially desirable. One might even add – genetically flawless. Occasionally, Daniel Peterson was lost for words in his daughter’s presence.

“Well if the Bank comes through for us sweetheart, I think we can pull this off.” he replied. “My contract with the studio has been renewed for two years and so long as we don’t overspend, yeah I figure we’ll manage ... struggling like everyone else I guess.”

The girl looked up at her father. How many daughters the world over, could ever have been so fortunate, she pondered momentarily. Pulling his arms tightly around her shoulders, she stared at the tranquil vista. Just across from Tulsy Crescent that fronted Bear Creek Park, some small children were playing in the recent snowfall, seemingly reluctant to follow their mother to the park’s exit gate. Michaela’s instincts left her in no doubt that this is where she and her father were supposed to be.

Not a week later, Daniel’s loan was approved.

Decentralizing from the apartment in Vancouver to White Rock in Surrey County seemed akin to moving into the White House after a lifetime’s residency in a cramped trailer-park. The triple-story nineteenth century white-gabled home, complete with five bedrooms, three bathrooms and a triple garage, sat on a two-acre tract well back from the road. Fully restored and undeniably spacious beyond their needs, something about “Linton Mews” transcended practicality and if the truth be known, the owners had been very keen to sell, being happy enough with Daniel’s initial offer which in other circumstances would have met with a likely rejection.

The gardens had been professionally established, although it would be spring before their aromatic charms and symmetry could be fully appreciated. For now though, Michaela was content to wander the intricate pathways, always pausing by the water fountain to admire the features of the great dragon that straddled its vanquished prey. Frozen-up for the duration currently, she knew exactly how the tableau must appear with water gushing from the beast’s mouth. If heaven existed, it had a hard act to follow!

Given her exemplary academic history, there was no problem with Michaela’s re-location to the local High School - Earl Marriott on 16th Avenue - for her graduating year. She engendered acceptance by her peers from day one, especially from members of the opposite sex. More than likely the grades of several besotted young males nose-dived that first semester.

Inevitably winter found itself in recess, the nights became a little warmer and Michaela’s garden wanderings soon developed into a night-time routine. She would take her time crossing the walkways and garden trails, allowing the various scents to waft in and out of her consciousness.

It was a Friday evening late April that first she became aware of a subtle shift in reality. Having eaten out at “Tangiers on Eighteenth,” with her father and subsequently outlasting a re-run of Little Miss Sunshine - a favorite of theirs, she found herself unable to further repel sleep. Kissing her father goodnight, she adjourned to the bedroom and having earlier changed into those rather becoming floral-print pyjamas, she slid under the covers.

The small bedside clock was showing but a minute or so after one o-clock when she opened her eyes. Neither frightened nor even vaguely alarmed, she simply knew that something had tripped her waking mechanism. For a few moments she sat there listening – to complete silence! As her eyes gradually adjusted, she noticed that the bay window to the right of her pillow was open slightly. She was sure she had closed it before getting into bed. Alighting from her comfort-zone she crossed the carpet and looked out upon an almost surrealistic moonlit vista. The lightest of evening mists hung about the trees and it seemed to her as if the syllables of her name were being whispered in the farthest reaches of the garden. Drawing her robe around herself she craned her head forward trying to pick up the least sound but was forced to confront the fact there was really nothing there, and yet...

Closing the window she clambered back into bed, becoming aware for the first time that her pulse rate was now slightly higher than normal.

One might nominate few things in life more conducive to blissful relaxation than being ensconced beneath the covers of a comfortable bed on a chilly night. Michaela was but moments from reaching her second REM stage of the evening when she felt the gentlest of pressure upon her right breast. Opening her eyes on the instant she lay there unmoving, the sensation no longer in evidence. But for the beating of her heart, the room was as silent as the night itself. Slowly she brought her own hand up to her chest. She had felt the intimate touch and knew this was no instance of unfettered imagination at work.

For maybe twenty minutes the girl lay still, awaiting further evidence of the phenomenon, but none was forthcoming. Disappointed, rather than concerned, her consciousness ebbed away finally. It was however with bemused interest that upon waking the next morning, she noticed the top two buttons of her pyjama top were now undone. Had she subconsciously done this herself mid-sleep or was there another explanation? A flush though came to her cheeks as she gazed downwards at her now partially exposed breasts. Distractedly she re-buttoned her top.

Concentration at school was a problem for the entire day. Several times she found herself staring out at the distant playing fields, looking for what exactly she had no idea.

Daniel noticed his daughter’s apparent preoccupation during dinner. “Anything wrong sweetheart?” he asked. “You seem miles away tonight.”

“Oh sorry dad,” she replied, smiling at him. “No, really, I’m fine ... just a little tired I guess. Mind if I go to bed a bit earlier tonight? – got some homework I have to finish up too.”

“Sure honey,” he said, “See you at breakfast then.”

Kissing him lightly on the cheek she picked up her back-pack and made her way upstairs.

Try as she might, she simply could not concentrate on the essay. For some reason she was feeling expectant. Someone or something was waiting for her. Where she knew not, why she had even less inkling. All she was cognizant of is that she needed to be ready somehow. Having changed, she once more crossed to the bay window and opening it, looked out upon the tranquil setting. A very gentle breeze was inducing movement in the upper branches of the maples and again she was sure she could hear her name but imperceptibly whispered on the wind, though just the one time.

She closed the window and walking to her bed, climbed in beneath the covers. Snuggling up in a fetal position, she hugged the small teddy bear that had comforted her whilst at the same time sharing her every life-experience since childhood. Try as she might to stay awake, the shutters were lowered involuntarily and within ten minutes she was fast asleep.

She felt neither her buttons being parted nor the first gentle squeeze - of both her breasts this time. It was following the third such caress that she woke, fully alert to the intimacies being perpetrated upon her privacy. For a few moments she simply lay there unaccountably still, feeling the unseen hand so softly massaging the contents of her bra. Unable to repress a slight gasp, the fingers were suddenly withdrawn, prompting her quite without thought, to whisper aloud, “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Seconds passed but no further contact was forthcoming. Twice she repeated her simple message but was answered only by a hushed silence. It was then she noticed the window just slightly open. Had not she closed it shortly before getting into bed? She was no longer sure of anything. At that moment, a sudden gust of wind blew the drapes to one side and she gave a small cry of surprise.

Sliding out from under the covers she walked across to the window and closed it firmly, checking this time that the opening mechanism was fully immobile.

Having climbed back into bed, Michaela felt a twinge of disappointment at the protracted inactivity. Quite subconsciously, her right hand moved upwards and began idly caressing her own breasts. With the realization of what she was doing, came a small gasp of embarrassment and she quickly returned her arm to her side. The silhouettes of the wind-blown trees reflecting on the ceiling above her bed were vaguely hypnotic and were the last images she retained before sleep once again overtook her.

“Do you believe in ghosts Dad?” Michaela enquired, while stirring her cereal abstractedly.

“Haven’t given a great deal of thought to the subject sweetheart,” Daniel replied “Why? Do you have some particular reason to ask?”

“Not really ... I just wondered if you had any experience of such things,” she added.

Daniel studied his daughter for a moment. “Well to be honest Michaela, I have felt your mom’s presence once or twice.” He paused for a moment, “I think she’s happy that we’re here – don’t you?”

The girl looked across at her father and smiled lovingly. “I’m sure she is dad.”

It was too much for Daniel who put down his knife and lowered his head, his grief evident.

Michaela walked quickly around the table and hugged her father. She had no idea what to say. She knew just how much he missed her and wished she could do more to fill the void in his life. For now, her experiences of the previous evening were relegated to the “miscellaneous file.”

Two days passed without incident. It was now Tuesday evening and Michaela had been working late, finishing up a major project on “The abolition of slavery.” Clearing away her books and papers – she couldn’t bear waking up to a messy room – she changed into her nightdress, completed her bathroom preparations and wasted no time in getting in to bed. It was so warm and enervating, had she been a cat she would have purred.

Awaking suddenly, she glanced at the small digital clock on her bedside table. It was twelve after one.

One hand cupped her right breast, the other she could feel moving very slowly down her side and towards her hips. Instinctively she looked towards the drapes. The window was unlatched and open. The hand silently groping her, relinquished its hold and began insinuating itself beneath the underside of her bra. So pleasurable was its progress that Michaela closed her eyes and sighed aloud, fully in the knowledge that whatever it was in the room with her, it intended absolutely no harm.

The second unseen hand had now reached her waist and as it continued to travel inland, across her abdomen and on toward an area that might best be termed “socially off limits,” she could not prevent the tiniest of gasps escaping from her lips. Immediately all pressure ceased, even the hand that had been gently squeezing her breasts withdrew. “Oh, don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please come back, I like you doing that.”

For almost thirty seconds no further contact was detected although the girl pleaded continuously for her unseen lover to return. Just as she was resigned to the night’s unfulfilled passing, again she felt the slightest of caresses across her upper chest.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded.

The hand resumed its former location – beneath her bra and beginning now to gently fondle her nipples dexterously. Pleasurable at this proved to be, it was the progress of the second hand that was demanding her total attention. Coming to rest atop her lower abdomen, the hand began to slide across her nightdress, at the spot directly beneath which, her panties were resident. Without any coercion, she parted her legs slightly, which allowed the hand to caress her entire vaginal area without hindrance. She could feel her pulse accelerating and her respiration-rate substantially on the increase. “Mmmm,” she found herself murmuring.

Partly embarrassed, wholly pleasured, she could only lie there, as what felt like a middle finger began to depress the material the extent of her sexy little crevice along her southern climes. She knew she was wet but had no immediate plans to address the situation. Even as the hand dropped to the hemline of her nightdress, beginning now to tug the flimsy nylon higher, she raised her arms above her head, signifying her total acquiescence to whatever was planned.