The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

by Kathryn Knight

  His brows furrowed as he pressed his lips together.

  “I think I’ll just have to wait for more messages, if they can get through,” she finished, nearly breathless. What was wrong with her? Stop talking. She reached for the glass of lemonade, sliding her gaze to his face as she sipped.

  She expected to see derision painted across his handsome features, as plain as the white plaster streaking his arms. But his expression was neutral. “Well, let me know if you find anything interesting,” he said, without a hint of contempt in his voice. If anything, he sounded sincere.

  “I will,” she confirmed. “And apparently there are some boxes in the attic I could look through too, just in case. Although Alice forbade me from going up and carrying them down myself.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Am I the volunteer for that job?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  He rolled his eyes skyward, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels. But his expression made it clear he was only feigning annoyance. “No problem. Will you be around for a while?”

  “Actually, Alice invited me to stay for dinner.” Callie had been hesitant to accept at first, but the kitchen had smelled so good. Not to mention, eating with other people seemed prudent after last night. And she didn’t have to teach a class tonight, either. “So, yes,” she finished.

  He cocked his head, brows lifting as he peered down at her. “Oh, I see now. You’re in this for the pie.”

  As she broke into laughter again, she suddenly realized how long it had been since she’d laughed this much. And how good it felt. She’d known Luke for just three days, but being around him made her feel…lighter. Despite everything going on, despite the fact that she was hanging around his family’s farmhouse hoping to connect with a ghost, or maybe even two ghosts, Luke was somehow able to make her laugh. He was amazing.

  And single, her inner voice reminded her.

  She tamped down the thought immediately. Guys like Luke weren’t interested in introverts with tragic pasts who talked to restless spirits. Not romantically, anyway. He was simply a nice guy, and she should be grateful for that. She was lucky he was willing to stand here and joke around with her, given the circumstances.

  “I do like the pie,” she admitted, unable to suppress a smile. But uncertainty set in on the tails of her sharp inner dialog, and she added, “Anyway, I accepted the invitation. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He gave her a playful smirk, dimples flashing. “Of course not.” He ran his hand through his already tousled hair. “No doubt Gram is thrilled to be having company aside from me,” he added with a chuckle.

  “She did seem a bit excited.”

  “Well, I’ll go grab those boxes while I’m a mess. Then I’ll get cleaned up.”

  Images of him in the shower suddenly flashed through her mind, and she cut her gaze away from his silvery blue eyes before he could read her thoughts. Good Lord. Swallowing, she pretended to focus on arranging the papers she’d been reading. “Okay, great. Do you need any help?”

  “Nah, I’ll manage.”

  She nodded as she peeked back up at him. “Thanks. Sorry to add to your workload.”

  He lifted a muscled shoulder. “No worries. I’ll leave them in the front hall.”

  Her body went limp as he disappeared into the house, and she exhaled, melting into the chair. A trickle of perspiration slid down the column of her spine. Great.

  Maybe you should go join him in the shower, the cheeky inner voice suggested.

  Maybe you should shut up. And now she was talking to herself, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it was still alarming, considering she wasn’t at home. At least she wasn’t actually saying the comments out loud.

  But the bigger point was that she was supposed to be working. Of course she was latching onto distractions—so far, the information in this paperwork was dry as dust and not at all helpful. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something useful in here, though, waiting to be discovered. A spirit was threatening her life; another was possibly trying to shed light on who it was and how to stop it. Her attention needed to be on this, and nothing else, unless she wanted to continue being held hostage to fear and violence.

  Bending her head, she gripped the papers with her sweaty hands as she resumed poring over the documents. After a few pages, her vision began to swim, until her eyes caught on something that sent a prickle of excitement through her veins.

  Chapter 12

  Dinner tasted as good as it had smelled—homemade meatloaf, fresh bread right out of the bread maker, and crisp green beans. Plus, there was pie to look forward to for dessert.

  Callie savored a bite of warm bread slathered with butter, nearly moaning with pleasure. So good. Alice had insisted on opening a bottle of Zinfandel, even though Luke was drinking beer, and as Callie took another sip of the tart ruby wine, she could feel her muscles relaxing. It was almost unsettling how much this dinner meant to her. Not just the food and the wine, but the company. The effortless way Alice and Luke included her, as if she belonged here.

  After the initial conversation about the food dwindled, Alice raised her own glass and gestured toward Callie. “So, dear, did you find anything out today?”

  Two pairs of matching gray-blue eyes settled on her, and she flushed. Suddenly self-conscious, she lifted the napkin from her lap and wiped her lips. “Maybe. It’s pretty thin, though.” She shrugged, picking up the bread and tearing off a piece to keep her hands busy. “Apparently there was an employee who worked on the farm in the 1950s who lost his arm in a hay baler accident. He survived, but at this point, he’s almost certainly passed on, so there’s that. I did a search on his name, but it’s so common, I didn’t get very far. The thing is…his first name was Robert. Robert Smith. And ‘R’ could have been the letter Henry was trying to write.”

  Luke set his beer down, nodding thoughtfully. “I remember that story, although I didn’t know the guy’s name. Pop drilled the gruesome details into our heads as kids to reinforce the idea that the tools and machines around here are dangerous.”

  “I remember it too,” added Alice. “Awful. But…why now? Are you thinking maybe he passed away recently, and decided to come take out his anger over losing his arm?”

  “It’s possible,” said Callie as she chewed the bread. A small part of her was waiting for the forceful blow to her back, but the alcohol certainly helped keep her anxiety at bay. “It’s just that I can’t imagine him being angry enough to try to kill me.”

  Silence.

  Whoops. She realized her mistake immediately; she hadn’t told them yet about last night’s choking incident. It wasn’t that she planned to keep it a secret…she just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject correctly. She didn’t want to downplay it, exactly, but she also didn’t want to be overly dramatic. Especially when she was getting along so well with Luke, because this story would certainly make him suspicious of her all over again. There was no way he was going to believe a ghost hit her in the back with the intention of making her choke while she was alone. He’d think she was seeking attention, or money, or maybe he’d just decide she was flat-out crazy.

  Well, it was done now. The wine had loosened her tongue; she couldn’t take it back. And you couldn’t get much more dramatic than announcing a ghost was trying to kill you.

  She squirmed beneath their stunned scrutiny, ripping the soft bread into little white fragments. Stop.

  Luke finally spoke. “Callie, what do you mean? Did something else happen to you that we don’t know about?”

  “Um…well, last night, while I was making dinner, I was snacking on cherry tomatoes. And…something…hit me in the back, right as I put a tomato in my mouth, and I choked. But I’m fine now,” she added hurriedly, reaching for her wine glass.

  Alice’s face was white as a sheet. “What exactly do you mean by choked? Could you breathe?”

  Swallowing a sip, she cleared her throat. “No. But I was able to give myself CPR—the H
eimlich, actually—and it came out and I was fine.”

  Both their jaws dropped. “You…gave yourself the Heimlich?” asked Luke slowly. Rigid tendons formed cords along his neck.

  “Did you call an ambulance?” Alice’s voice trembled as she asked her question almost simultaneously.

  Crap. This was not a subject she wanted to dwell on. They’d been having such a nice time, and she may have found a promising lead. “Yes, I’m trained in CPR and I remembered how to do the Heimlich on myself,” she said with a little nod of confirmation. “So, no, I didn’t need to call an ambulance. Like I said, I was okay, and it was late. There was nothing paramedics could have done at that point, really.”

  Luke pinned her with a steady gaze. “You’re saying it wasn’t an accident, though, right?”

  She shrugged. “I mean…I guess it could have been.” No. She was diminishing what had happened. “Actually, no,” she said aloud, shifting in her chair. “It wasn’t an accident. I definitely felt a blow to my back, and I think it was timed to have the effect that it did. But please, I don’t want to ruin this delicious dinner talking about it anymore. Truly. Let’s enjoy the food.” With forced casualness, she speared a green bean.

  Alice made a small, noncommittal sound as she reached for her wine. She straightened her shoulders, looking directly across the table at Callie. “Maybe you should come stay with us,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips.

  Now it was Callie’s turn to go still. Her mouth fell open as she tried to process the words. She flicked a glance to the head of the table—Luke appeared equally surprised. What to say? “Oh, no,” she managed, shaking her head. “Thank you very much for the offer, but I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not? There are two more empty bedrooms upstairs. I’d feel better if you were around people while this is going on. You’d be safer.” That familiar determination was creeping back into Alice’s tone.

  Callie’s chest tightened as gratitude welled up inside her. But she was not going to foist herself on this family any more than she already had. God, she couldn’t even imagine what Luke was thinking right now. “Really, thank you, but I’m okay at my apartment.” She popped a bite of meatloaf into her mouth as if this were a perfectly normal dinner conversation.

  Lines furrowed across Alice’s forehead. “Well, the offer stands. I know you said you lost your mom a few years ago, and that your dad’s in a nursing home, so if you change your mind, you’re welcome here.”

  Luke turned toward Callie. “I’m sorry about your family. I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice low and edged with sympathy.

  “Thanks,” she nearly whispered past the lump in her throat. The sting of tears gathered behind her eyes, and she cast about frantically for anything to change the subject. She was not going to cry in the middle of this nice dinner. She already felt like she’d ruined the meal.

  A sudden grinding rumble made them all jump in their seats, and Callie’s pulse leapt as she looked around in confusion.

  “It’s just the overhead garage door,” explained Luke, rising from his chair. “It’s been acting up lately. I just can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.” He strode from the dining hall through the kitchen and down the back hallway. A few moments later, the rumble repeated as the door shut down. Luke paused at the fridge on his way back to pull out another beer. “Has to be something going on with the sensor,” he said as twisted off the cap and sat back down.

  Judging from Alice’s expression, she wasn’t buying that explanation for a second. But she didn’t comment, only stood and refilled Callie’s wine glass, then her own. With a stoic smile, she gestured toward everyone’s plates. “Does anyone need anything else? Don’t forget we have pie, too.”

  They managed to swing the conversation to current events and an offer Luke received on the house he put up for sale, and the tension eased as they finished their meal. But after dessert, Alice quietly reiterated her offer while Callie stood beside her at the sink. “You’re welcome to stay here anytime, if you change your mind.”

  Callie dried a serving bowl with a dish towel. “Thank you.”

  “We should make sure you have Luke’s number, too. He’s better at keeping his phone with him. That way, if something happens, you can call him.”

  She set the bowl on the counter. “Oh, I don’t know…,” she began, trailing off.

  “It’s fine,” Alice insisted, her voice firm. “Even if it’s the middle of the night, I want you to promise to call if you need him.”

  Part of her brain went rogue, conjuring up a forbidden image of Luke showing up in the middle of the night at her bidding. Heat licked at her cheeks. Maybe that second glass of wine hadn’t been the best idea. She realized Alice was waiting for a response, so she did her best to clear her mind of the steamy scenario currently playing out and murmured, “I promise.” Opening the cabinet above, she pulled out a glass and crossed the kitchen to fill it at the fridge’s water dispenser.

  As she stood there, Luke came up beside her, and she caught a hint of his now-familiar scent—a devastatingly masculine combination of soap, leather, and wood. She inhaled, savoring it for a moment before she could stop herself. Then he touched the small of her back, and her heart skittered.

  “Join me for a walk?” His hand lingered for a beat before falling away.

  Oh, God. For a moment, she literally couldn’t speak. Why would he want to invite her on a walk? Because he was interested in her? No, that couldn’t be it. To tell her once and for all to take her ridiculous claims and peddle them somewhere else? More likely.

  But then again, he’d touched her. It was probably nothing—a gesture to get her attention. But for some reason, it felt intimate. And, oh, so good.

  She pushed away the chaotic thoughts and focused on forming a coherent response. “That’d be great,” she managed. There. Nothing wrong with that. An after-dinner walk around a beautiful farm was great.

  And the company wasn’t bad, either.

  He nodded, turning toward Alice. “Gram, we’re going to go for a walk before I take care of the horses for the night.”

  Warm blood rushed to Callie’s face, and she gulped at her water. “Is there anything else that needs to be done first?”

  Alice shooed them away with a wave of her hand. “I can finish up anything that needs doing. You young people go. It’s Friday night, for goodness sake.”

  “Ready?” Luke asked.

  “Ready.” She pulled in a breath, hoping her hand appeared steady as she set down her glass. Combing her hair back with her fingers, she followed Luke toward the front door.

  The sun had already slipped behind the tree line, leaving amber streaks across the indigo sky. A silvery half-moon glowed in the falling darkness, joined by a few bright stars. The cool night air carried the scents of their surroundings—the fields, the woods, the barn. Tiny creatures swooped overhead, and she had a feeling they were bats. Which was fine. She wasn’t afraid of bats. There were much scarier things in her world.

  “Let’s go down to the pond,” Luke said, leading them along the walkway toward the side of the house.

  As they passed the garage, she tensed, praying one of the overhead doors wouldn’t suddenly come to life and darken the mood. But they both stayed closed against the night, sheltering Alice’s car, while her car and Luke’s truck sat side-by-side in the wide parking area. Moths fluttered around the two outdoor lights in frantic circles.

  The shortest distance to the water was straight down the grassy hill to their left, but it was a steeper slope than the curved drive down to the barn, so they continued along the driveway as the asphalt turned to packed dirt. Light stretched out from the open entrance to the barn, and a trio of horses stood near the building in the back field.

  “Are they waiting for you?” she asked.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Probably. I fed them at 4:00, but they get hay and water to last them through the night when I put them into their stalls. They’re creatures of habi
t. They know where to find the outdoor hay feeder if they’re really hungry. They just know the routine. I usually do the night check around 8:00 or 9:00.”

  “That must put a damper on your weekend nights.” What a dumb thing to say. It was none of her business, and it had to be crystal clear she was fishing to see if he had a date tonight. “I mean, unless you go out after,” she added quickly.

  He chuckled. “Fortunately, that’s not a big concern of mine right now. Too much going on these days, and I get up so early that late nights at bars are not as appealing as they used to be.” There was a pause as they reached the bottom of the hill. “Are you headed out tonight?”

  She nearly burst out laughing, which would have been better, because instead what came out was a cross between a giggle and a snort. Lovely. “No. Definitely not. I rarely go out on the weekends.” Very true, if rarely meant ‘never’. When her father had begun to show symptoms, she’d decided to continue living at home and attend college nearby. Of course, Andrew’s decision to also enroll at Bridgewater State University played a part. During those four years, she and Andrew became their own social circle, and her high school friendships fell by the wayside. Then her mother passed away from cancer her senior year in college; one year later, the accident took Andrew’s life and changed her own life forever.

  So, no…even if she wanted to go out, she wouldn’t have anyone to go out with at this point. Every once in a while, some of the other instructors at the gym proposed a Ladies’ Night, but Callie had declined enough times now that she was probably no longer invited to the gatherings, if they still took place. It wasn’t that she disliked the women—she just didn’t want to get close enough to attract their dead relatives. Not to mention public places could also be fraught with desperate spirits seeking a messenger. All things she preferred to avoid, if possible.