It was cold and the wind cut a swath like a million tiny razors through the skin, ruthlessly sucking the moisture out of my pores.

Moon glow reflected off the tempestuous waters of the lake. The occasional cloud passed across the bright orb in the sky creating a shimmering effect of light on the surface of Lake Ontario.

I saw a rare beauty through the frame of the viewfinder. A strong breeze carried the heady scent of her perfume with a hint of lilac. The moonlight threw golden highlights on her hair. Her skin was smooth and almost devoid of any imperfections; yet its shocking paleness made me worry about her condition especially in a cold night like this.

“You know, Miss Fitzgerald, I really appreciate your coming out here tonight, especially on such short notice,” I said as I snapped a few rapid shots of her from my camera. The flash briefly illuminated the landscape the way a bolt of lightning would on a stormy night.

I erected several low-powered stage lights to give an emerald ethereal glow to the scene. The resulting ambiance gave a gothic, almost Dickensian look, perfect for the cover of the magazine I was contracted to work with. They left an urgent message the night before on my voice mail saying that they had finally found the perfect cover girl for their winter issue. I was to meet her at the Prince of Wales Hotel and do the shots by the waterfront near the gazebo.

                                                                                                                   ***

She was already waiting at the lobby by the time I burst into the hotel dragging my mud-stained gear across the carpet. We shook hands and introduced ourselves.

The red, velvet jacket was snug around her impossibly tiny waist. Was she actually wearing a corset underneath, I wondered. That would really be going above and beyond just for the sake of authenticity!

Even her red hat and long skirt was perfect for the kind of shot the magazine wanted. She tugged at the fingers of her white gloves and smiled at me. I couldn’t help but smile back in return. Her modest charm made me feel like I was transported back in time to the days when the daily musings of life were a lot simpler. I looked around the lobby and noticed the absence of the magazine staff.

“Did you come here on your own?” I asked. She didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup and her nod confirmed my suspicions.

“Damn it!” I exploded, making her wince. “Sorry. It’s just that this is highly irregular. For the amount of money they are paying me and spending on this photo shoot, you would at least expect to see nothing less than an entire entourage, not just you and me.”

I looked at my watch and came to a decision. “Well, let’s get started then. I have everything that I need with me. You ready to go?”

She nodded and we headed back out into the cold.

                                                                                                                ***

An hour passed since we began the photo shoot and the tingling sensation on the tips of my fingers turned into a dull aching numb. I wrapped the scarf tightly around my neck and carefully wiped the moisture from the lens.

“Please, call me Daisy,” she said. “And it is no trouble at all, Mr. Miller.”

The landscape was once again briefly illuminated by the flash of my camera. She posed and held the bouquet of flowers in her gloved hands. A cape was wrapped around her shoulders. She showed no signs of discomfort though the wind had already begun to pick up strength from across the lake. In another month, small chunks of ice would wash up the shore.

“Daisy,” I smiled, lowering the camera. “It’s a pretty name.” She lowered her eyes and carelessly twirled the curls of her hair.

“Look, this is stupid. Take my jacket. I think I got enough shots of you to cover several issues of the magazine. I started to unzip my ski jacket when she suddenly grabbed my hands. She was ice cold to the touch and I suddenly felt the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

Before I knew what was happening, her lips touched mine. She had the kiss of winter and her sweet breath filled me with such a chill that my body began to convulse. I felt my arms shake like an epileptic and my frozen fingers had a death-like grip on her waist.

I couldn’t let her go even if I tried. Daisy smothered me with her kiss. I felt the rise and fall of her small breasts against my chest as she crushed me with her embrace. My breathing was laboured and I began to feel the strength leave my body.

I stumbled back against the relentless assault and my right heel caught the protruding edge of a rock from the grass. I fell and used our momentum to roll her off my body as we hit the ground.

I tried to get up but my legs buckled from under me. I reached out and grabbed at the nearest light stand. It fell to the ground in a resounding crash as sparks blew out of the broken bulb.

In the semi-darkness of the night, Daisy struggled to get up. Then to my surprise, she cried.

I willed myself to crawl towards one of the ground lights and directed its beam towards the gazebo. What I saw under its illumination would forever haunt me till the rest of my days.

Daisy Fitzgerald was huddled at the steps like a frightened little girl. There were dark rings around her eyes and her hair had lost its vitality as it hung loose around her face. There were streaks of grey on her hair that I hadn’t noticed before. But worst of all, the look on her face was an untold burden of guilt, fear and overwhelming sadness. I wanted to reach out and comfort her in spite of what she did to me.

“Don’t. Please don’t come near me,” she begged. “For God’s sake, get away from me while you still can!”

“Daisy. I don’t pretend to understand what just happened. But whatever it is, I can help. You have to trust me,” I said.

“No one can help me,” she cried. “Not anymore. But you...you still have time.”

“What do you mean? Time for what? I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Yes you do. Yes you do!” she sobbed. “You felt it. Felt yourself slipping away into the darkness and I wanted you so much to come and stay with me.”

Daisy grabbed hold of the banister and slowly pulled herself up to her feet. She brushed the grey strands out of her eyes. Crows feet had begun to encroach and spread out across her face. There was a tremor in her voice and it cracked when she spoke.

“You have been waiting for me for so long. But you are not yet ready, I realize that now. Your will is still strong. But one day, I will be back for you...one day.”

I saw her recede into the darkness within the gazebo. The shadows of the night embraced her until she was gone.

I ran up the steps of the small, wooden structure wherein countless wedding vows had taken place. I paced back and forth under the roof like a mad man. It was empty. I called her name and pleaded her to come back. All I heard was the sound of water crashing against the rocks as the wind howled into the night.

Heartbroken, I sat on the steps of the gazebo. My hand traced the grains of wood on the post where she left her imprint. I kissed every inch of the surface that she touched and I felt the sting of tears on my face.

The sound of a muffled ring snapped me out of my stupor. I reached into my jacket for the cell phone. My mouth felt dry when I answered it.

“H-hello,” I said.

“Is this Mr. David Miller? Sir, we’ve been trying to reach you for hours but your phone number’s always busy!”

“Who is this?” I asked.

“This is Leila from the modeling agency. I’m very sorry to inform you that Miss Daisy Fitzgerald had...an accident. Her car was found upside down on a ditch off the highway just outside of Toronto. It was really awful! We’re still waiting to hear back from her roommate who’s at the hospital...”

The cell phone slipped from my fingers and I watched it tumble with a sense of detachment onto the grass.

“Mr. Miller? Are you still there? Hello? Mr. Miller?”

                                                                                                                ***

Two nights passed since I saw her. The ache and longing in my heart was as strong as ever. I stared at all the photos that I took. There was not a sign of her in any of the pictures. I browsed through the images onscreen in search of the mysterious Daisy Fitzgerald.

Two hundred high-resolution shots of nothing but an empty space between the lake, the bench and the gazebo threatened to break my sanity except for one bewildering photo.

I traced a finger across the sphere of light, a faint glow like a gathering of fireflies that seemed to float inches above the bench on the very spot where she sat.

“One day, I will be back for you,” she said.

I felt a sudden pain on my chest and I rummaged through the clutter of my desk drawer until I found the small bottle of pills. I washed down two swallows with a glass of water and took deep breaths until the beating of my heart slowed.

I felt a presence behind me with a scent of lilac. I could almost feel her icy breath against my cheek.

“Not yet,” I whispered, willing the pain on my chest to subside. “Not just yet.”