The beautiful girl I met in the deserted ballroom on the moonlit pier turned out to be a ghost who disappeared before my eyes.
The last thing I recall was feeling shock and awe.
I must have fainted, because when I woke up, I was flat out on the floor with her bent over me, daubing my forehead with a damp cloth.
“I’m sorry, Manse, I didn’t mean to startle you, but I was just feeling so nostalgic tonight—and you reminded me so much of Beau.”
I scrambled onto all fours, intending to stand up, but felt so light headed, I had to sit back down. “Phew! I’m trembling so much, I don’t think I can stand.”
She backed off a few paces, twisting the wet washcloth anxiously in her hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you so much, Manse—I’ll go, if it will make you feel better.”
Her sad eyes melted me—call it sympatico, or both our fates being written in the same book, but her plight stirred compassion in me.
My breathing slowed down and my heart stopped racing.
“Look, Faye—I get what you’re going through. I’m dealing with the same feelings myself. Forget about me—what can I do to make you feel better?”
Her features brightened into a smile. “You’re so kind, Manse—but just listening to me has made me feel better.”
“I’m glad,” I smiled back. “So, you really wrote the original lyrics to that song?”
“I did,” she beamed proudly.
An idea hit me. “Can you make that ghostly orchestra play Moonlight Serenade again?”
“Sure,” she laughed, and with a slight wafture of her hand, the familiar smooth sound of clarinet and saxophone breathed life into the dance hall once again.
I got to my feet feeling reinvigorated.
“Take my hand,” I commanded, and she did, and we began to dance, in the blue filtered light of the Moon and the iridescent dust of stars,
As we swirled around the floor in time to the music, she began to sing in my ear her own version of the lyrics:
A voice in the dark is a whisper of wind in the June night
The breeze in the trees makes me think somehow that you might
Be calling my name, Love, to dance with me tonight
It was magical, dancing in the dark with her above the silvery waves, two ill-fated lovers finding solace in each other’s arms. But the music soon ended and I was left alone, shuffling in stardust, swaying with shadows on the old dance floor.
Two years later, the restored Moonlight Pier re-opened in its modern incarnation as a throwback to the nostalgia and elegance of a bygone time.
By then, I had come to terms with desires that haunted me in the form of wraiths and dream lovers all my life.
And I was no longer bitter or cynical—I just wanted the magic I found with Faye that night at Moonlight Pier.
My desire to embrace magic led me to make peace with Callie and she toasted me at the opening, and even danced with me several times, but it was not as enchanting as the night on the Pier dancing with my fey Thirties girl.
I’m not looking to ignite a lost love with Callie or spend a lifetime regretting what could have been with Faye—I have a new woman in my life—a hopelessly romantic dreamer like myself who loves swing music, dancing on waves and doesn’t mind a little star dust stirred up along the way.
To think, a voice in the dark and a breeze from the sea stirred the romantic sleeping in me.