The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

by Kathryn Knight

  Her breath caught as cold air drifted around her, and she closed her eyes, frozen in place. Had he heard her? Was he here? The thud of her pulse filled her ears as she waited for something to happen, hope warring with fear in a fierce, potent clash of emotions.

  A feathery touch grew in pressure as phantom arms encircled her from behind in a gentle hug. She longed to lean back into the comforting embrace, to savor the moment even as shivers raced up and down her spine. But the sensation lasted so briefly, she almost convinced herself she’d imagined it. Then she caught the faint scent of Henry’s spicy aftershave, and knew without a doubt that somehow, his presence was with her.

  As if to further prove it, a shaky line began to form in the dusting of flour spread across the counter. Her mouth dropped open as she stared. An invisible finger parted the white powder, extending the vertical line downward.

  Henry was trying to send her a message! She inhaled sharply, her mind reeling. The letter ‘I’? Maybe he was trying to spell out ‘I’m here’? ‘I love you’?

  But it wasn’t an ‘I’, because more of the letter began to appear, a semicircle curving out from the top of the straight line. The kitchen lights flickered as she watched in fascination, and the preheating oven clicked off briefly, leaving the clock numbers flashing.

  A loop began to close as the curve came back in toward the middle of the straight line. In the moment before the semicircle connected, the temperature in the kitchen dropped, and time stood still. Suddenly, flour burst into the air in a violent snowstorm, as if an unseen hand had swept across the counter. The fledgling message disappeared in the fury, and Alice cried out. The bowl of pitted cherries smashed to the floor, splattering crimson juice and ceramic shards across the wooden planks. Round red globes rolled in every direction.

  She spun in a circle, looking for the cause of the chaos. But of course, there was no one there. No one visible, anyway. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she released a small sob. She was more distraught over the loss of the message, of the connection to Henry, than her morning’s hard work, but now she was facing a big clean-up job as well.

  She took a few wobbly steps over to the big table in the dining room and lowered herself into the chair on the end. Henry’s chair. Leaning back, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling, as though he might be hovering above, ready to offer an explanation.

  Because there had to be one. None of this made sense. Why would Henry offer her a comforting hug and begin a message, only to wipe it away unfinished in a furious tantrum? Why would he smash her bowl of cherries, or the sugar bowl, for that matter?

  The thread of an idea wound its way into her chaotic thoughts, and she tugged at it, unraveling, considering. Maybe it fit. Pulling in a determined breath, she pushed herself up and picked her way through the kitchen, in search of her cell phone. When she located it by the sink, she pulled up Callie’s number and made the call.

  Chapter 7

  Callie’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as she turned into Hillwood’s long driveway. She’d rushed to get ready when Alice had called and told her there’d been an incident, and asked if she could come over sooner than the 2:00 p.m. arrival originally planned for the trail ride. Alice hadn’t elaborated on the phone, but after everything that had happened in the apartment last night, Callie was dreading whatever was coming. Licking her lips, she turned off her music and pulled over to the parking area to the left of the house.

  A twinge of pain throbbed in the ball of her foot as she stepped out of the car, and she winced. It was bearable, though, and she’d bandaged the sliced skin carefully. She knew enough about horseback riding to know that the stirrup wouldn’t put a lot of pressure on the injured area of her foot. Teaching an hour class standing in front of a ballet barre was a different story, though. Luckily, tonight was Pilates, and she could do everything sitting or lying on a mat. There were no classes on Friday nights, so she could have the rest of the weekend to heal up.

  Provided there were no more wild events at her apartment, that was. Unfortunately, Alice’s call didn’t give her much hope that things were calming down. If anything, the situation was escalating, quickly.

  Climbing the porch steps, she smoothed her hair back and closed her eyes for a brief moment, struggling to center herself. Then she tapped on the screen door frame and stepped inside when Alice’s “come in” called out from the kitchen.

  A word slammed into her head: Help. Then garbled sounds took over, underscored with static, as though a radio station had suddenly veered beyond the range of its signal. A bright ache bloomed in her skull, and she gasped, lifting her hand to her forehead as if she could physically calm the chaos roiling inside. “Whoa,” she gasped, swaying.

  Alice rushed toward her, gripping her arm. “Did you hear something?”

  She hesitated, straining to hear something else intelligible beneath the crackling in her head. Nothing. The din began to fade away, and she opened her eyes and shrugged. “Sort of,” she hedged as she followed Alice through the dining room and into the kitchen. She wanted to find out what had happened here first before she went into all the details of her experiences.

  A mop and bucket stood in the corner. Uh oh. That didn’t bode well. Her mind flashed back to the millions of tiny glass shards glittering all over the worn carpet of her bedroom. She’d spent over an hour trying to pick up the larger pieces, then vacuuming over and over, the whole time warily looking over her shoulder for a gauzy, terrifying face. And this after a night spent on the couch, drifting in and out of a splintered sleep. At least nothing else had happened since the mirror incident. Well, to her, anyway.

  “More destruction?”

  Alice nodded, folding her hands across her chest. “A big bowl of cherries I’d already pitted smashed onto the floor. And flour went everywhere too. But before all that, something else very strange happened.” With a sigh, she gestured toward the row of stools beneath the counter where Callie had sat yesterday. “Do you want to sit down? Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” She slid onto a stool. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was getting ready to roll out the pie crusts, and I said how much I missed Henry out loud.” Her voice broke, and she pulled in a shaky breath. “And then I felt him here. Like a presence, but it was like he was standing behind me, and wrapped his arms around me. I felt it. And then…” She paused, exhaled. “A message started forming in the flour. Like, a letter. But then it was suddenly swept away. And the bowl went crashing down.”

  “A letter?” Wow. This was huge. “What was it?”

  “It looked like the letter ‘P’. But it was erased before any more was written.” She shook her head, frowning. “It was just like what happened with the sugar bowl. The atmosphere went from loving and gentle to angry and destructive. I just don’t understand. But I have an idea I wanted to talk to you about. First, though, did you hear something when you came in?”

  Reaching back, Callie massaged the knot in her neck. Sleeping on the couch had not done her body any favors. “Um…I did. But I should start by telling you I heard something yesterday, too.” She bit her lip as a wave of guilt washed over her. “I just wanted to wait to mention it, so I could get more context. But I’m as stumped as ever.” She relayed the danger message, along with today’s plea for help, finishing with last night’s fiasco at her apartment.

  “Oh, Callie, I am so sorry that happened to you!” Alice’s pale blue eyes went wide, filling with concern. The corners of her mouth sank as she wrapped an arm around Callie’s shoulders. “This is my fault. I got you involved. I never dreamed something would happen away from Hillwood.” The words quaked with emotion.

  “Please don’t feel bad, Alice. I didn’t think of it either. Nothing this…aggressive…has ever happened to me. Usually, the spirits that try to communicate with me are just looking for help. It’s frightening, or at least it was when it first began happening, but it’s never felt dangerous before.” She pulled her brows togeth
er. “There are those two words again. Danger and help. I just don’t get why there seems to be so much…interference. The messages being drowned out by other noises. The letter in the flour being wiped away. It’s like any attempts at communication are getting cut off somehow.”

  Alice nodded emphatically, sliding onto an empty stool. “That goes along with my theory.” She pinned Callie with a steady gaze. “I don’t think this is just Henry. I think Henry’s trying to tell me something.” Her voice dropped. “And someone is trying to stop him.”

  Oh my God. Callie’s jaw dropped open. It made sense. “That would explain…a lot,” she said slowly. “But who? And why?”

  “I haven’t been able to come up with any answers to those questions yet. If it’s true, it’s a lot to take in.”

  “Yes.” Her own mind was whirling like one of the carnival rides at the Barnstable County Fair. “Could it be someone with a name that begins with ‘P’?”

  Alice propped her elbows on the counter and settled her forehead on her fists. “I’ve been wracking my tired, old brain for the last hour. I can’t think of anyone who might have lived here or spent a lot of time here whose name begins with ‘P’.”

  “Well, ‘P’ could be the person trying to block Henry’s message. Or the person Henry’s trying to warn us about. Or both.” Her shoulders slumped as frustration combined with exhaustion. This was maddening.

  “Or maybe it was the start of a different word. Like…‘Please’?”

  “Hmm. Where was it written, exactly?”

  Alice traced her finger across the surface of the counter with slow strokes.

  Callie chewed in the inside of her cheek, following the path of Alice’s fingertip. “Or…maybe it wasn’t even a ‘P’. It could have been an unfinished ‘R’.”

  Their eyes met. Ryan? The silent suggestion passed between them. Alice pursed her lips, deepening the network of tiny wrinkles, and shook her head.

  Boots thumped on the porch steps, and the screen door opened with a whine. Alice and Callie snapped their heads toward the front hall.

  Luke walked in, bare-chested, toweling the perspiration from the back of his neck with his T-shirt. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed Callie sitting beside Alice. “Oh.”

  Muscles rippled across the hard planes of his chest, the wide V of his shoulders tapering down to washboard abs. A heady thrill traveled through her, hot and demanding. She gulped, dragging her gaze away as she willed the flush rising in her cheeks to recede.

  He took a few steps toward the dining area, his eyes sliding to the large white clock on the wall. His brows furrowed. “I thought…”

  “I asked Callie to come over early,” explained Alice.

  “Ah. Well, I was just going to grab a shower.” He glanced down at his upper body, then gestured with the hand clutching the damp T-shirt. “It’s really humid out there.”

  “Yes,” Callie agreed, struggling to yank a coherent thought from the current haze in her brain. Nothing came, but she managed to resist the urge to echo “it is really humid”. Although it really was, unfortunately. Her skin felt sticky, her hair heavy and weighed down. She’d given up this morning and wrapped it into a knot on the top of her head, being careful to avoid the painful lump.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Is there something I need to know about?”

  Alice waved him away. “It can wait. Go ahead and take your shower. We’re fine. We can discuss it after.”

  He looked at Callie, clearly seeking confirmation that all was well.

  She nodded. “Everything’s fine, really.” Please, go shower and put some clothes on. For the love of God.

  “I won’t be long,” he said as he turned and disappeared up the stairs.

  Callie blinked to clear the image of his broad back from her brain. Focus. There were more important things at stake here than her sudden overwhelming lust for Luke. Like how they were going to explain all this to him, for one thing. Keeping her voice low, she leaned in toward Alice. “Do you think he’ll believe us?”

  Alice lifted a narrow shoulder, sighing. “He’ll believe the mishaps happened, and maybe that I saw a letter in the flour. But he’ll look for a rational explanation, probably.” She offered an apologetic smile. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know. It’s a difficult thing to accept.”

  “He’s a good man. Special.”

  That was one word to describe him, she thought to herself, trying not to picture him upstairs in the shower. A few others that came to mind were hot, kind, protective, loyal, funny, and hardworking. Able to build a house. A freaking cowboy, or as close to one as you would find on Cape Cod. She wondered idly if he had a girlfriend. Of course he did. Women were probably lining up to date him. Ugh. And why was she thinking about this? “I can tell,” she managed, when she noticed Alice seemed to be waiting for a reply.

  A knowing look gleamed in Alice’s eyes, and one corner of her mouth quirked up.

  Oh, God. She’d been caught—apparently it wasn’t too difficult for the older woman to read Callie’s thoughts. About her grandson, for God’s sake. Callie dropped her chin to hide her face, pretending to tighten the band securing her thick coil of hair. Then she added, “I can’t imagine how he’s going to react when we try to convince him there might be two ghosts lurking about.”

  “If that’s indeed the case,” said Alice, “which one do you think is speaking to you? Can you tell anything from the voice?” She drummed her fingers lightly against the counter as she thought for a moment. “What about the face you saw? I know you said it was dark, but did you notice anything that might help us figure out who this is? Male, female, old, young?”

  “Hmm. Well, each time I’ve heard a voice, it’s been a single word, and it sounds like it’s coming from far away. Like a whisper traveling through a bad phone connection. It’s a lot less clear than some of the other times I’ve heard messages. Plus, it’s like it’s being purposefully garbled. I’d just assumed the voice belonged to Henry, since he lived here so long and passed away so recently. But I can’t be certain it’s a male voice, to be honest.” She glanced up at the ceiling, trying to replay the messages in her head.

  “And the face was…” she trailed off, suppressing a shudder. She swallowed, tried again. “The face seemed like it was made of smoke and shadows. The room was dark, like you said, and I was terrified. But I noticed dark, empty sockets where eyes should be, and blurry features. I suppose it could have been my imagination, but then I felt something touch me, and the mirror exploded.”

  “I don’t think for one minute you imagined it.” Alice gave her thigh a comforting pat, then stood and walked around the counter to the sink. She took two glasses from a cabinet, filling them with ice and water at the fridge door.

  “I’m certain I didn’t. It wasn’t even something I’d thought of, that might have been lodged in my subconscious, since I’ve never actually seen a ghost. I’ve only heard them.”

  With a heavy sigh, Alice set the water glass in front of her. “I am so sorry this is happening to you, Callie. I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I’d had any idea the haunting would…follow you home.”

  “It never occurred to me, either,” she said, taking a drink. “The only time spirits have ever communicated with me when I’m alone is when it’s been someone attached to me. Someone I actually knew.” Like Mom. Like Andrew. Her heart twisted into a painful knot.

  Footsteps jogged down the stairs, and Luke appeared, this time fully dressed in worn jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair still damp. He slid onto the stool next to Callie. “Okay ladies, fill me in.”

  Chapter 8

  Alice made sandwiches while they talked, and after lunch, Luke asked Callie if she was still up for a trail ride. A few butterflies skittered through her stomach as she assured him she was. Alice was still determined to get at least one pie made, so she shooed them out of the kitchen with instructions to have fun.

  “I’ll ride Moose,” Luke said as
they walked down to the barn. “He can be very stubborn, and he’ll try to turn around to get back to the barn. I was going to have you ride Lady.”

  “Well, the name sounds promising, anyway. A horse named Lady wouldn’t run away with me, right?”

  He chuckled. “She’s very gentle. And we’ll just keep it at a walk. I’ll go over all the basic stuff you need to know, but for the most part, it’s likely she’ll just follow Moose.”

  When they got to the barn, she watched him saddle the horses, being careful to avoid standing under anything that might tumble from above and strike her on the head. Her nerves were humming, and she was having difficulty pinpointing exactly what was making her more anxious: the unfamiliarity of riding a horse, the awkward intimacy of being alone with Luke, or the very real possibility of another hostile paranormal event. All three were probably equally to blame, she decided, glancing up at the ceiling.

  Thankfully, Luke seemed to have lost some of the antagonism he displayed toward her yesterday. While he didn’t exactly say he believed they were being haunted, he listened patiently and asked thoughtful questions. Like Alice had predicted, he clearly felt there was some rational explanation for everything that had happened, but he didn’t accuse Callie of making things up for monetary gain. He also didn’t suggest anyone was going crazy, which was an unexpected vote of confidence.

  When he’d finished tacking up the horses, he tipped his chin toward the entrance to the barn. “Ready?” He left Moose in the aisle cross-ties and led Lady outside by the reins.

  Lady was a beautiful gray mare, with a silvery dappled coat and a white mane and tail. She seemed sweet, too, but Callie’s pulse ramped up a little as she prepared to mount. Did the horse get taller since they’d left the barn?

  Luke tugged on the metal stirrup. “You put your left foot in here, hold onto the front and back of the saddle, and swing your right leg over as you pull yourself up.” He glanced between her and Lady, gauging their relative heights. “I can give you a leg up,” he added, lacing his fingers.