The Colby Ghost

Everyone has their own identity, but after an unexpected encounter with a forest girl named Diane at his parent’s summer lake retreat, sixteen-year-old Miles Hanson realizes he might just have two of them. Intrigued by the impossible past of which she speaks, their love blossoms quickly, as does the mystery surrounding her presence.

After some investigation alongside his father, a lifelong lake visitor who had also encountered his own version of Diane as a child, Miles soon learns about a local mystery involving The Colby Ghost. The tale centers around a young couple who had disappeared three decades earlier. Their names--Miles and Diane.

Pulled away from Oak Lake for good, a result of family issues, Miles must fight his way back there, in order to learn the hidden truths about the missing couple, as well as some shocking revelations concerning his own life. But will Celia Walton, a new love at home, complicate things, or is her involvement all part of Diane’s master plan? In the end, Miles must make an emotional decision that will affect his future in ways unimaginable, and one girl will be heartbroken. Or will she?

KUDOS FOR THE COLBY GHOST

In The Colby Ghost by Michael Infinito, sixteen-year-old Miles Hanson has an encounter with a young girl who will haunt his life forever. While vacationing at his parents’ summer lake house, Miles meets a teenage girl who calls herself Diane. But something about her seems strange, and every time Miles sees her, the mystery surrounding her grows. No one else ever sees her, and she tells Miles about some mysterious plan that he devised so that they could be together. A plan that he can’t remember ever hearing about, let alone making. But when Miles tries to learn more about the so-called plan, Diane refuses to divulge any details, saying that it could cause the plan to fail. When Miles’s parents decide to sell the lake house due to family issues, Miles is devastated, knowing that he will never see Diane again. But Fate has a plan of its own, and Miles is unprepared for the discoveries he makes as he attempts to reunite with Diane. Like most of Infinito’s stories, this one is chilling, unpredictable, and poignant. Just the thing for a hot cup of tea and a rainy afternoon, turning pages as fast as you can.

The Colby Ghost by Michael Infinito is the story of a love that time cannot erase, even when fate deals a cruel blow that would keep most lovers apart. Diane Colby and Miles Lawrence are teenage lovers in the 1950s. When the two disappear and are presumed drowned, the lake resort community where they live fears that Diane’s brutal father murdered the kids in a fit of rage when he found them together. But as their bodies are never found, and the only clue to what happened is an overturned rowboat, it remains an unsolved mystery. Many years later in the 1980s, sixteen-year-old Miles Hanson visits the lakeside community for the summer with his parents and meets a mysterious teenager named Diane, who claims that he and she are lovers and that he made a plan for them to be together. But Miles knows nothing about any plan, has never met the girl before, and is convinced that she’s crazy and has mistaken him for someone else. Even so, he quickly falls for her, feeling a connection to her that he can’t explain. But is the girl actually real? Miles’s family and friends don’t think so because no one ever sees her but him. And if she’s not real, but a ghost, how can their encounters feel so physical? The many questions with so few answers turn young Miles’s life upside down, especially when he discovers that his family will never be coming back to the lake. The Colby Ghost is a ghost story with a unique twist. Poignant and intense, as Infinito’s books usually are, it will warm your heart, send chills down your spine, and keep you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to all the readers, friends, and family who have supported my writing career through the years. Also to the staff at Black Opal Books for their hard work and faith in my projects.

The Colby Ghost

Michael Infinito

A Black Opal Books Publication

Copyright © 2017 by Michael Infinito

Cover Design by Jackson Cover Designs

All cover art copyright © 2017

All Rights Reserved

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-626946-10-1

EXCERPT

He had worked so hard to get back to her...and now she was leaving him for good?

Diane donned her own dingy garment. Search your heart. Surely you must know my intentions are true.

He held both of her hands. I don’t believe you’d ever purposely hurt me.

She offered a half-smile. "Then you do remember something about us."

When you said we must go our separate ways, what exactly did you mean? Is this a temporary thing? If I get a ride, can I see you again this summer?

I’ll probably be gone the next time you make it up here.

Your family is supposedly buying a house. I’m only talking about a couple months.

They are, but I have my own schedule to keep. I can’t say where I’ll be by then.

Tears streamed down Miles’s cheeks. I won’t give up on you. I’ll keep coming here for the rest of my life until I get some answers.

I know you’ll return. Doing so is--

Yeah, let me guess, part of the plan.

Your plan, sweetheart. Nature’s plan. I can’t stay here any longer.

You have to leave right now?

Yes, before I can’t help myself. If I remain in your arms, all will be lost.

Miles let go of her hands. Then what more can I do? You’re breaking my heart.

She kissed his cheek. Be happy, Miles. I’ll always be with you, but don’t let my memory interfere with your life from this point forward.

He fell to his knees and started sobbing, covering his eyes with both hands. Oh God, it hurts, he cried. Please don’t go. No response followed. Miles looked up and Diane was gone.

This isn’t fair! he shouted into the darkening forest.

‘Come back to this place. Never forget we had a beautiful summer together.’

He wept.

DEDICATION

For # 4

Chapter 1

1958:

Two fire trucks arrived on the scene, signals blaring. The night air glowed in a flickering display of yellow and orange, as tall flames erupted from a suburban house’s second story windows.

Please find my husband! a frantic woman wailed from the front lawn.

A firefighter approached her. Are you okay, miss? he asked, while others rolled out hoses and secured hydrant connections.

Yes. We both escaped in time, but James went back in for our dog. Max sleeps in the basement at night. Please save them!

Jason, we still have one person inside, he shouted to another fireman. There’s a dog, also. They may be in the cellar.

Yes, sir, Jason replied. Already fully decked out in their heavy gear, he and another comrade dashed toward the house, axes in hand.

My name is Carl Weatherly, Mrs.--

Adams. DeDe Adams.

Well, Mrs. Adams, as fire chief, I suggest you get checked out. Even if you didn’t suffer any burns, there’s a possibility of respiratory problems from the smoke.

No! I’m not moving until I know James and Max are safe, she exclaimed, her voice ringing in defiance.

Two of my best men are searching for them right now. Please wait near the ambulance so someone can look after you.

I said no, damn it!

Well, if you won’t get examined, then you must move across the street. Standing so close is too risky.

But--

As the primary safety officer on site, I really must insist.

Distraught, DeDe crossed the road and took up vigil on the opposite sidewalk.

***

Jason Durring and his longtime brother-in-arms, Christian Turk, cautiously entered through the house’s front door. Heavy smoke hung thick at eye level, so they crouched in search of better visibility and cleaner breathing air.

This place isn’t going to stay up long, Jason said, inspecting the dwelling’s flaming infrastructure.

Ten minutes at best, Christian agreed. We’d better locate this guy in a hurry.

Is there anybody in here? Jason shouted.

A dog bark sounded from below their feet.

The chief said they were in the cellar, Christian pointed out. Let’s find the stairs. Fast.

This house is built just like my in-law’s. The door should be inside the kitchen pantry.

I’ll follow you, then.

They moved through a dining room and into the kitchen. Eyes burning, Jason led the way. There it is, he said, pointing out an open door.

The dog bark rang out again, this time louder, more distinct.

The owner is supposedly down there with the dog, Jason said, raising his voice above the fire roar. A few more sharp yelps followed, but no human response. Christian, you wait up here. I’ll check downstairs.

Make it quick. I heard the ceiling creak. I’m not dying for a dog.

Give me a shout if it looks like I’m running out of time.

Go! Christian urged.

Jason shined his flashlight at the pantry. As expected, he found the open basement door inside. Hello! he shouted.

More barking.

He moved cautiously down the wooden stairs, scanning the light back and forth in front of him. At the bottom, he spotted a Boston Terrier. It stood over a crumpled man, whimpering and licking his owner’s face.

Good dog, Jason said, easing slowly forward. Let me have a look at your master. He approached the motionless figure. Right away the man’s condition became apparent. Christian, the guy’s dead. Looks like the poor fellow took a tumble on the stairs. Worst neck break I’ve ever seen. I’ll need your help bringing him up.

We haven’t got time, Christian replied. Get your ass out of there right now. This place is falling down around us.

With a sorrowful heart, Jason scooped up the whimpering dog, never testing its demeanor, and raced to the ground floor.

The Terrier wiggled and whined, but displayed no aggressive behavior. He rushed up the stairs and through the pantry with smoke billowing about in drastically increased levels.

Move it! Christian pleaded.

Jason frowned. We can’t just leave the guy down there.

I don’t like it any more than you do, believe me. But a beam just fell in the other room.

Guys, hurry it up! Chief Weatherly’s voice came from the front lawn.

Out of options, Jason followed his partner’s lead. A flaming rafter crashed down between them, cutting Jason off. Then the floor rumbled below their feet.

Jump it if you can, Christian hollered.

Jason dove across the fiery wood. He purposely landed on his back, protecting the dog at all costs. Another ceiling section collapsed, barely missing him.

Forget the damned dog! Christian screamed, standing near the front door, separated from his brother firefighter by a growing wall of flames.

Catch him! Jason tossed the Terrier ten feet or more through the air, above the inferno’s reach.

Without missing a beat, Christian caught the startled pet.

Go! Jason ordered. I’m right behind you.

Christian bolted outside and turned around just in time to see the roof cave in. He gasped. Oh, my God! No!

As the second story came crashing down, Jason burst through a smoke cloud and leapt off the porch. Christian released the Boston Terrier and ran to his buddy’s side. Still whimpering, the dog ran across the street to DeDe.

DeDe couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unfolding in front of her. Two firefighters had rescued Max, but her husband’s whereabouts remained a mystery. Feeling nervous, she crossed the street and approached the men who had just exited her crumbling house. They stood in conference with Chief Weatherly, hunched over and breathing hard.

Where’s my husband? she asked, wary of the response.

Jason hung his head. I’m sorry, miss. He didn’t--

Nooo! Her anguished cry echoed through the normally serene subdivision for all to hear.

Chapter 2

1980:

Fifteen-year-old Miles Hanson couldn’t divert his eyes from the chair in front of him. The back of Celia Walton’s tight, acid-washed blue jeans pinched together at the waist, allowing him a clear view of her pink panty line. With only a few weeks remaining in the school year, the moments he spent scoping out the prettiest freshman girl’s buttocks rapidly drew to a close. His seat position in Mr. Porter’s biology class had been a blessing.

Miles closed his eyes and imagined Celia, submerged in a hot bath, her perky breasts showing through a thin layer of bubbly suds. Over the next few minutes, he inserted her image into every adult magazine pose he had ever seen, while rummaging through his father’s forbidden drawer.

Miles, are you with us today? Mr. Porter, a tall, somewhat chubby teacher asked, his size and unkempt facial hair creating an intimidating presence.

Huh? Oh, yeah, Miles replied. Sorry.

The surrounding students laughed.

Do you have that assignment from yesterday? You said I’d get it first thing this morning.

Yes, sir. It’s in my book bag. I’ll bring it up at the end of class.

You can put it on my desk now.

I really can’t at this moment. Miles’s member throbbed uncontrollably. No matter how hard he tried, the image of Celia Walton’s skin, glistening with soapy bath water, couldn’t be pushed aside, especially for the sake of some silly homework assignment.

Mr. Porter frowned, Are your legs broken, son?

I have a back cramp.

Should I call the nurse?

No. It’ll go away. They always do.

Mr. Porter glanced at Celia for a brief moment. I think I understand the source of your pain, he said with a sly grin. I had the same affliction when I was in high school. Just put the assignment on my desk on your way out.

Thank you. Miles shifted his position and displayed a discomforted face, selling his back injury excuse to the twenty-two spectators surrounding him. He spent the rest of fifth period thinking about anything but Celia’s ass.

By the end of class, his manhood had returned to its normal dimension, and he dropped off the assignment as he headed toward his locker.

Two other boys approached as he stuffed his biology book onto the top shelf.

Whatcha doing for lunch? tubby Eric Alanson asked. He wore baggy jeans and an over-sized AC/DC concert shirt.

I’ll probably hit The Campus Store, Miles replied. You guys want to join me?

Probably not, Dennis Long answered, brushing shoulder-length blond hair away from his gaunt looking face. Eric and I can’t afford that shit every day.

The sight of Eric and Dennis always amused Miles. One tall and thin, the other short and fat, they came across as a stoner version of Laurel and Hardy. I’ll buy, he offered.

Nah, Eric said. You pay for everything. You make me feel like your pet.

You didn’t mind when I got us tickets to the Judas Priest concert.

That was different, dude, Dennis butted in. You’re talking Priest, man. Besides, I said I’d pay you back.

Me, too, Eric added.

I don’t want your money, guys. You’re my friends.

Why do you hang with us, anyway? Dennis asked. You don’t drink, or smoke. Hell, you’ve barely ever toked on a joint before. Eric and I come from poor families. Your dad’s a famous author, and you got money out the ass. You’re wearing a fucking preppy blazer for Christ’s sake.

I just like who I like, Dennis. I don’t really fit in with any one group. We have musical tastes in common, at least.

As the boys chatted, Celia Walton sauntered by, casting her hips from side to side like a runway model. Hi, Miles, she said with a flirtatious grin.

Um...hey, Celia, he responded, face feeling warm. She faded away down the hall.

Holy shit! Eric exclaimed. Celia’s so fuckin’ hot. I think she likes you, Miles.

The tart’s just playing with him, Dennis said. She knows he’s been inspecting her crack all year long. What color panties did she have on today?

Miles snickered. Pink.

Eric made a moaning sound.

You gonna cum in your locker? Dennis asked, displaying a teasing smirk.

Only if your mother bends over to get my books, Eric replied.

All three boys laughed heartily, offensive mother jokes a cure-all for any situation.

I guess I’ll eat in the cafeteria with you dopes, Miles said as he shut his locker door.

Walking in the cafeteria’s direction, Eric said, You know, I bet you could get Celia if you really tried. John Rigby is throwing a big party a week after school ends. I know she’s going. Dennis and I don’t do that crowd, but you could. Brag about your father’s books, feed her a few beers, and then dive in on that pretty snatch.

Sounds like a plan, Eric agreed. You can let us know if she’s really a blonde.

I’m not good looking enough for her, Miles said. She’s into jocks.

Dude, the only thing jocks got that you don’t is an interest in sports. You’re tall, somewhat muscular, and you come from money. You should play baseball or something.

They entered the cafeteria and stepped to the end of a long line.

I hate that shit. In a park, with neighborhood friends, it’s okay, but coaches fuck the whole thing up. I’m not big on authority, Miles remarked.

Something else we all have in common, Eric mentioned. Now, about that pussy party--

I can’t, Miles said.

You scared? Eric teased. Afraid you might really get some?

No. I’m going up to the lake again this year for two months. We leave as soon as school ends.

Awesome! I wish my family owned another house somewhere, Dennis said.

Miles sighed. It’s not all that great. I don’t like going. The kids up there are all college types. Their idea of fun is solving math puzzles. All I do is go swimming, and that gets real old after a while. By August, I just sit in my room and write those stupid songs you guys love so much. We don’t even have phone lines in our area. Nearest payphone is miles away at a country store.

You should stay here, Eric suggested. My mom would put you up for the summer.

That would be cool, but I can’t. My parents are fighting like crazy lately. To be honest, I doubt they’ll be together much longer. They think a family trip might help.

"What do you think?" Dennis asked.

I think I’d better go along to keep them from killing each other. They get really bad. My dad threw a piece of wood through the wall a few weeks ago.

The boys paid for their soggy fried chicken lunches and found an empty table.

So that’s it, then? Eric said. No parties. No pussy chances. Just a bunch of stuck-up snobby kids and battling parents. Sounds like a blast.

Yep. And I’m the only one who’ll be there all summer. Most families stay a week or two at best.

How far is it? Dennis asked.

From here it’s about a five hour ride.

Jesus, couldn’t they have bought a place at the Jersey shore instead. Why’d they go half-way to Canada?

Eric laughed. You dumb stoner. It’s past halfway. It’s just shy of the Canadian border.

Gee, thanks for reminding me. Miles sounded deflated. He bit into his room-temperature chicken leg and didn’t say another word.

Chapter 3

The ride north started out peaceful enough. Miles didn’t say much for a long stretch. His thoughts remained focused on abandoned friends and how much better their summer would be than his own. He also couldn’t keep Celia Walton out of his mind. By the time their family BMW had crossed into New York State, he had already violated her five times in various imaginary settings.

Miles’s father, Paul, a forty-two-year-old, successful fiction author, didn’t talk much either. On occasion, Debbi Hanson tried sparking conversations with her husband and son, but neither of them showed any interest in socializing.

Are we going to speak to each other at all this summer? she complained.

Paul made a grunting sound and reached for the radio. He turned the volume up slightly and began scanning through channels.

"I don’t