I came back to make love to my father. There was nothing else in my former life that I wanted to relive or alter. Just that. Not as myself though. I came back as one of my friends, someone I thought would appeal to my father. Incest is just too big a barrier to break, even for ghosts. We were too much alike, father and daughter, everyone said, two peas in a pod. We looked alike, as far as a male and female can, we had the same interests and we thought along the same lines. The one thing that was strongest between us was never discussed. Throughout our lives we were in love with each other, romantically and passionately, a love that could not be spoken of, let alone be acknowledged even to ourselves.

I thought long and hard about the perfect person who would appeal to him, next to me of course, and came up with Samantha, a friend from my middle age, who had never met my father and who had also died about 2 years after me. But I restored her to her twenties, easy to do because she had told me her life history. And Samantha appeared in my father’s life when he was in his early twenties, a randy time for a man, long before he married. Time wise, this would have to be sometime in the early 50’s. There was nothing that could jeopardize me and my sister’s births and our mother’s life with Dad.

That’s all I had to do. Afterwards the pleasure was just watching. Sounds perverse, I know. But I died too young. I had boyfriends yes, but nothing like my Dad.

I put Samantha in Woolworth’s working at the lunch counter where I knew Dad often went to eat back then. He worked just a block away at the insurance company. A couple of times a week he’d run across the road and order the hot chicken sandwich. You remember those awful concoctions, two pieces of white sliced bread filled with chicken covered with gravy, mashed potatoes and peas on the side. He’d have a piece of pie too and coffee. Samantha was the new waitress one day and Dad immediately took notice. Cheekily peeking out of her tiny apron pocket was a tiny square yellow order pad. There was a short pencil tucked behind her ear.

"What’ll it be sir" she asked as she rubbed a damp cloth over the counter in front of Dad, then placed a paper placemat down along with a glass of water.

"The hot chicken sandwich please."

"Do you want peas or carrots with that?’

"Peas please, I don’t like carrots." And he made a small grimace wrinkling up his nose.

"But they’re good for you," Samantha said

"They make me gag," said Dad

"Well, that won’t do, will it sir?" She turned to leave, shooting him a sideways glance. He watched her walk away, admiring her squared off shoulders and narrow waist. White shoes and stockings didn’t do a lot for her legs but he could see they were slim, with pretty ankles. Her hair was short, red and curly. Nothing but the best for Dad.

Woolworth’s lunch counters were U shaped with a winding counter and bar stools so the waitresses were fully in view at all times. The yellow squares were skewered on a wire stand in front of the steamy cubby-hole facing the kitchen. Waitresses would shout , "hot chicken," or "grilled cheese," to the chef inside. Plates of food with the yellow squares sticking out underneath were pushed through the opening. Turnover was quick, customers did not linger, as counters were built for speed , not leisure.

Dad didn’t linger either but went back to the office with a glow. Could he date a waitress? Why not? He assumed she didn’t have much education. Well, neither did he. She was really beautiful and seemed bright too. Certainly not afraid of men. Not a shrinking violet. Samantha was impressed with him too.

After a couple of weeks of friendly banter Dad asked her out to the movies one Friday night.

"That’d be swell," she said

They met at the Capitol theatre downtown at 6:30 for the early show, thinking they would get some Chinese food at Wong’s café afterwards. Dad was too much of a gentleman to put his arm around her on the first date during the movie, but when he took her home he pecked her on the cheek. Samantha lived alone in an apartment close to the main street of their small town. She explained that her mom and dad were dead, and that she had been on her own for 2 years now. She had an older brother in the navy.

Some time after that they had a regular date going for Friday night and soon Sunday afternoons as well, when Dad would row her all the way along the river to the local park. It was a good way for him to get some exercise and also to show off his physique to her. He rented the boat and Samantha put a picnic lunch together, some ham sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, pickles, apples and a few butter tarts she had laboriously baked in her small kitchen. Dad loved pastry so she made the effort. They would eat and lie on the grass together, gradually getting closer and closer until they were hugging and kissing. Dad made sure their picnic blanket was away from the main areas of the park where they might see someone who knew him, The park was usually very busy on Sunday with family and church picnics.

Samantha couldn’t believe her luck. It looked like marriage was looming. She had had one engagement that had gone bad, her long-time boyfriend having moved to Chicago for a jewellery appraisal course and dating someone else he met there. It was as though he was looking for a chance to dump her. I had to invent a new past for Samantha, you see. Not too dissimilar from her real past.

One afternoon just as they began kissing on the grass he stopped, just as Samantha was getting really enthusiastic.

"I can’t."

"What’s wrong?"

"I have too much respect for you I guess. You remind me too much of my mother or maybe its my sister. I can’t pin it down and can’t really tell you why."

As for me, I couldn’t believe it. All my best laid plans. I hoped they would try harder.

And they did, with Dad inviting her to dinner at his parent’s house the following Sunday night. His folks were nervous and it showed. Grandma even spilled a plate of cookies she was bring out from the kitchen to the dining room table. Grandpa thought she was a hot number but didn’t say so. Samantha’s visit fitted well in future stories about Dad’s former girlfriend. But she was called Agnes, another girl.

Dad treated Samantha as a lady with a barrier around her. But all my instructions, to be careful but persistent didn’t work.

When Samantha reported back to me she said the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. The idea was to get him to go to bed with her. But she couldn’t do it as long as he insisted on respecting her. And besides, Samantha wanted to get back to her own memories.

One day Samantha stopped working at Woolworth’s lunch counter. Dad wasn’t seeing her regularly by then anyway. He had begun to think she was a bit fast for someone he might want to marry. She disappeared from his life. A few months later he met my mother at the roller skating rink.