Benefactor...He's not a bed sheet ghost or transparent wraith, but a guide.

I was orphaned when I was nine.

My parents died in a plane crash in the Rockies, and suddenly I was living with a maiden aunt, called of all things, Auntie.

Her real name was Cicely Warren. She was my father’s spinster sister, but as unlike him as the Moon the Sun.

She was cold and hard as the peppermints she kept locked in a small steel tin—cold and hard as the dark brooding thoughts shut up in her pursed lips.

When she spoke her sentences were terse, and splintered into words.

She inhabited an austere world nebulously existing in a void, a remote old maid on the very verge of human society

But my parents’ will that made Auntie my guardian also allowed me access to Basil Heathrow, my father’s advisor and longtime friend.

Basil was very much like Father—kind and gentle, albeit older and more solemn—but a refuge, and welcoming fire that cheered and warmed me through Auntie’s cold and moody spells.

Basil took me places, and I looked forward to our ‘adventures’ as he called them, for they were magical escapes from a grim and joyless life.

Once we visited a goldfish pond in a shady courtyard off a twisting street; another time, the Planters Peanut factory. And then, there was the overnight trip to Montreal on the train.

But it’s the small outings that still lodge in my brain—like standing in drizzly mist while Basil patiently explained the meaning of a rooftop weather beacon flashing red through a dark April afternoon.

And so, I was orphaned, but not abandoned, because in the end, I had Basil.

Years passed and I matured. I entered university and eventually became a lawyer.

I grew closer to Basil each year, depending on his sage guidance in all my affairs.

“You’re a teacher, Uncle Basil,” I told him one day. We were sitting in his office in Chamber House, a magnificent Beaux Arts building erected in the late 1920’s.

He reached over and squeezed my hand affectionately and laughed. “I’m not a teacher—I’m more an awakener, Cain.”

His use of the term seemed very accurate. He made me pay attention to life when all the rest of the world seemed asleep to its beauties and truths.

I reflected on the way our relationship had evolved over the years—and how he gradually became my mentor, and then, ultimately my friend.

But despite the fact I matured and grew up, Basil always remained the same.

He seemed to sense my thoughts because one day, he unexpectedly made a confession to me. He began by saying our relationship was ‘quite unique.’ When I asked what he meant, he simply said, it was owing to the fact I was alive and he was dead.

“I’m a vapor, Cain—a faint echo of a life once lived. But I still want to persist, though fleshless, and somehow make a difference.”

“You mean you’re a ghost?” I croaked.

“Not a bed sheet ghost or transparent wraith,” he explained. “Think of me as a guide.”

“And was my father aware—of your…state?”

He chuckled at my attempt to be delicate. “Yes, I met your father when he also turned nine—I met his father at the same age, and before that, his father’s father. You see, I’m very familiar with the Warren family. We go back a long way.”

“And what is the purpose of this relationship with our family?” I rasped.

“It’s very simple,” he confided. “I’m here to offer assistance in any way I can. You’re not obligated to follow my advice and you’re free to discontinue the relationship if you choose. But I do hope you’ll keep visiting me, as I’ve grown very fond of you.”

By this point in my life, Auntie had passed away and really, Basil was the only family I had—rarefied, or otherwise.

Although my educated head was unable to grasp the full implications of what he said, my heart had already decided—he was too important in my life to allow his being discarnate to divide us.

Basil then went on to add, “But my Boy, since you are flesh and blood, you need living companionship.”

I was bemused. “Are you suggesting I find a mate?”

He handed me a business card. “Start with a dog,” he said.

The next day, being a Saturday, I was at the Humane Society offering my services as a volunteer.

“Have you ever owned a dog?” the supervisor asked.

“No, I’m afraid not—my Aunt would have never allowed it.”

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Most definitely. But I figure it’s like being a parent—nothing prepares you.”

The older woman’s eyes crinkled as she broke into a warm smile. “I think you will do just fine. I’ll put you with Charlotte.”

“What breed is she?”

“Human, like you,” she chuckled, “You’ll shadow her and learn the ropes.”

At that moment a girl appeared at her door. She had long honey-colored hair and huge brown eyes. “You called for me, Mrs. Simpson?”

“I did, Charlotte. I want you to meet Cain Warren—he’s offered to volunteer and he’ll be shadowing you.”

She stared at me and I felt my stomach flip. She was beautiful.

I spent the rest of the day in a haze.

Charlotte had a soft voice and a gentle way—even the animals seemed to sense it and fell under her spell—as did I.

It was a very long week until I could be with her again, and I spent it dreaming of her every night.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, I walked into a scene of bedlam at the pound.

A puppy mill had been raided and the police had seized over fifty dogs—many were ill and malnourished. The kennels were swamped with animals in need.

Charlotte and I worked feverishly all day and by closing time, all the animals had been treated and boarded except one—a Golden Retriever puppy named Heart.

Charlotte wanted to take the puppy for the weekend but lived on the fifteenth floor of a downtown Toronto condo. I offered to board Heart seeing as I had recently purchased an older Victorian house with a huge yard, right beside High Park.

Charlotte was hesitant because of my inexperience, but agreed to let me take the pup on condition she visit during the weekend to help me out.

She didn’t have to bend my arm.

“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked, her huge brown eyes studying mine.

“No, not at all. It’ll be fun,” I assured her.

She seemed to come to a decision. “Well okay, but I insist on going home with you and getting you set up for the night.”

Outwardly I nodded and quietly demurred, but inwardly, my heart was pounding in my ears.

We rode the subway together, sitting closely on a bench, Heart curled up and sleeping at our feet.

An older woman sitting opposite got up to leave and then, paused and leaned down to whisper to us, “Such a lovely couple—and with your little pup, already a family.”

Charlotte blushed and my heart leapt at the thought of the three of us.

As we walked down my tree-lined street, I wanted to grasp her hand, but had to resist the urge—still, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. It was lovely being with her.

“I love this house, Cain!” Charlotte’s eyes lit up, and the same surge of joy flowed through me as the first day I set eyes on it myself.

I persuaded her to stay for dinner and as I prepared pasta, she went about puppy-proofing the downstairs.

We fed Heart and he curled up on a blanket by the kitchen door.

We dined with candlelight and wine in my hitherto unused dining room listening to Thirties music while an April rain pelted the windowpane.

Afterwards, I lit a fire and we had coffee in the front room while flashes of lightning, like wavering moonlight, lit the windows.

The thunder’s din frightened Heart and he began to whimper, but Charlotte cradled him in her arms softly stroking his fur and whispering reassurances.

We sat there, the three of us, on the rug before the fire, in my darkened front room—the storm gnashing outside, and the three of us, warm and fed and shut away from the black wetness, safe in our oasis of peace.

And then, we fell asleep.

When I awoke shortly after dawn, gray light was just beginning to suffuse through the blinds.

I looked over to see Heart, still curled up, his head resting in the crook of Charlotte’s arm. She was fast asleep; her cheeks a lovely pink, and her breath rising and falling like waves upon the sea.

I knew then I wanted this to last forever—that we had become a family.

That night was a watershed in our relationship. It was my beginning in a colored world I only knew in dreams.

Within a month, Charlotte and I were engaged. I adopted Heart and the dream had finally come to stay.

“I have a surprise,” I told her, one Friday afternoon. “There’s someone I want you to see.”

“Well okay,” she laughed, “but it can’t be your parents because you’re an orphan just like me.”

“It’s my uncle—he’s been with me through all my hard times.”

She hugged my arm and leaned in close to me. “Then, he’s someone I really want to meet.”

We rode the elevator to the top floor of Chamber House.

When we entered the oak paneled office, Charlotte’s jaw dropped.

“Grandfather?”

Basil crossed the room to hug her. “Hello, Child. I’m glad you’ve come to visit.”

My head was swimming. “Uncle—I don’t understand.”

“I think you both better sit down,” he smiled.

“Why does Cain call you Uncle?” Charlotte demanded.

“Because I am,” the old man sighed, “not by blood, but by love.”

Charlotte looked perplexed, but I reached out and grasped her hand in mine.

“I came into both your lives when you were nine—when you lost your parents, and I’ve been watching over you all this time.”

“But why?” I moaned. “I still don’t understand.”

“No, I suppose you don’t, my Boy, but suffice it to say, it’s because you both were fated to meet—to unite two houses and begin a new line.”

“You arranged for us to meet?” Charlotte asked incredulously.

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. I allowed you to come together and let nature take its course.”

“But why us?” I asked.

He chuckled softly and then said matter-of-factly:

“I chose you both because you’re tender, loving souls and your offspring will make a difference in the world. Besides, you’re soul mates—born in the same star—your atoms mixed together an eternity ago.”

“But wouldn’t we have found each other anyway?” I asked.

“Not always, my Boy—sometimes people fail to meet and live apart tragically. I just helped things along.”

It’s a strange business this law of fate—I don’t comprehend it, but I do see why it exists.

Charlotte feels the same and is glad Basil is there to assist.

We have our own little family now in our house beside the park. Sometimes Basil visits and occasionally helps things along.

There’s a baby on the way and Charlotte’s due any day.

And there’s a welcoming fire to cheer and warm us on those cold, bleak days when the sun doesn’t always shine.

Image source: Google Images