The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

by Kathryn Knight

  He shifted positions as his blood heated, returning his focus to the screen. “That sucks,” he responded, unsure where to go from here. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, but that might sound creepy. Might as well just follow up by asking her what she was wearing. He wanted to reiterate Gram’s invitation to come stay at Hillwood, but that might sound too forward, coming from him.

  He frowned. No other woman he could think of had ever put him in knots like this. His sudden uncertainty was foreign. Then again, the situation was certainly unprecedented.

  With a heavy sigh, he added, “Will you come by tomorrow if you have time?” There. Innocuous enough. But he did want to talk to her about everything, now that he had a new outlook on the strange events.

  Hell, he wanted to see her, too. May as well admit it to himself.

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Whatever works for you. I’ll be around, working on the barn and my house.”

  “K.”

  He inhaled deeply, debating. Then he typed, “Have a good night. Be careful.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Chapter 14

  Something tickled her forehead, interrupting her dream. Callie tried to brush it away, but layers of sleep pinned her limbs down. Slumber pulled her back under, heavy and insistent.

  She flinched as the sensation disturbed her again. A bead of water dripped onto her face, trickling down her cheek. Another. Cold, wet droplets. A dank smell filled her nostrils.

  Her eyes flew open as panic sliced through her. The oxygen left her lungs in a strangled gasp. No! Oh please God no.

  A figure stood by the side of the bed, bent forward over Callie, its features gray and murky in the darkness. Empty black eye sockets stared down at her as torn lips leered. Tangled strands of dark hair hung down in a sodden curtain, dripping water onto the pillow.

  A scream built in Callie’s throat, but no sound emerged. Her muscles were locked in ice, useless and immobile. Only her heart moved, thrashing frantically in her chest like a dying bird.

  Another drop splashed the skin beside her nose, and terror broke through her paralysis. Callie cried out, scrambling away from the specter to the other side of the bed. Please don’t let it follow me. She pictured it flying toward her with inhuman speed, reaching out with clawed fingers. This time it was going to succeed in killing her. She half-jumped, half-fell out of the bed, watching it as she stumbled into the corner. Now she was trapped.

  Something brushed against her ear and she shrieked, batting it away. But the figure on the other side of the bed hadn’t moved. It stood in the shadows, its head down. Callie reached a shaking hand up and touched a spiky leaf. Just her hanging spider plant.

  And the windows were to her left. They were unlocked, cracked to allow the night air in. Should she yank one all the way open and try to jump? It was only two stories up. But below was an unforgiving paved lot.

  The lamp on her dresser registered in her peripheral vision. She’d never wished for light with more desperation than right now. But even if she found the courage to lunge for the lamp, it probably wouldn’t work. She’d left the hall light on when she’d gone to bed, and it no longer glowed in the doorway.

  Muffled plops fell on the sheets, breaking up the silence. She was going to go mad. Right here, right now. If she survived long enough.

  Beneath the windows was a bookshelf, and Callie reached out and grabbed a heavy candle in a thick glass jar from the top shelf. What would happen if she threw it? Would it injure the ghost? Or would it simply anger it, causing it to attack? She drew in a shuddering breath, gripping the improvised weapon with her damp hands. What do I do?

  No inner voice answered her at first. But then a thought surfaced—she was a psychic. Maybe this thing needed something. Maybe it would leave her alone if it got it. She swallowed hard and tried her voice. “What do you want?” It came out as a rasping plea.

  Look what you did. The words crackled in her head, filled with venom, accompanied by a burst of pain. Callie reeled backward, releasing a high-pitched whimper as she squeezed her eyes shut against the agonizing invasion. As she forced them back open, she drew back her arm. The instinct to fight back was too strong to ignore.

  It was gone.

  The shock brought her momentum to a halt, but the candle still launched, sailing through the air in a small arc before landing on the mattress. It bounced once and settled beside the forgotten flashlight.

  Was it hiding behind the bed? Beneath the bed? The image was almost too horrifying to envision—the stuff of nightmares. Leg muscles quaking, she side stepped toward the dresser, sending up a silent prayer as she turned the knob on the lamp.

  One click. A second click, and a cone of light illuminated the corner of the room. Her shoulders slumped as a wave of relief crashed over her.

  But she still had to check. With each step, dread built, until her stomach heaved and bile burned her throat. She rounded the bottom corner of the bed, peering around to where the figure had stood. Nothing.

  She took a tentative step closer, studying the worn carpet. Every cell in her body recoiled as she stretched her foot toward the spot right next to the bed. Biting hard on her lip, she touched her toe to the dark patch of carpet. Cold. Wet. She snatched her foot away, staggering back.

  She swallowed back the acid filling her mouth, sinking slowly to her knees. Tremors vibrated through her hand as she reached for the bed skirt. Holding her breath, she flicked it up, a scream poised on her lips.

  Nothing but rolls of wrapping paper and a set of five pound hand weights.

  She sagged back on her heels, willing her racing pulse to slow. Okay. Pushing herself up, she retrieved the flashlight from the sheets and plucked her phone off the nightstand. Then she made her way to the kitchen, flicking on every light switch she passed.

  Should she bother checking the rest of the apartment? It didn’t make much sense, considering the intruder was a ghost who could appear without warning and then vanish into thin air. She sighed, filling a glass of water at the sink. So much for reclaiming her bedroom. She’d felt so good after hearing from Luke. So strong. His concern, the relatively calm weekend, and her aching body had teamed up to make sleeping in her comfortable bed seem like the best course of action.

  Would the spirit have shown up anyway, no matter where she slept? It probably made no difference. Still, the couch just felt safer. Plus, she could watch TV, because she was pretty sure sleep wasn’t going to be an option after all that. Look what you did. The horrible accusation rattled around her brain like shards of bone.

  As she sipped her water, she glanced at her cell, contemplating texting Luke. Alice had said to get in touch at any time if she needed help. But honestly, what could he do? It was 3:30 in the morning. He’d probably be up in a few hours; she’d contact him then.

  She wandered over to the couch, pulling the blanket off the back of the cushions. One of the decorative pillows would have to work, she decided, wedging the softest one into the armrest. No way was she using the damp pillow from her bed, even with a fresh pillowcase.

  With a grimace, she swiped a hand over her face. The water drops had dried, but she still had the sudden pressing urge to wash any traces of that thing off her skin. Gathering her flashlight and phone, she trudged to the bathroom.

  Chapter 15

  She sat cross-legged on top of a table, watching Luke work. They were inside the house he was renovating, but he was currently building more saddle racks for the barn. Country rock played softly from a speaker by her knee.

  She’d been at Hillwood every day this week so far. When she’d shown up on Monday morning, Alice and Luke had already been filled in on her terrifying middle-of-the-night visitor from her earlier phone call. Alice had immediately swept her up into a comforting hug; to Callie’s surprise, Luke had followed suit. As he wrapped her in a protective embrace, the tension in her body seemed to melt away. His strong arms stayed around her long enough for it to feel intimate, and a flush heated
Callie’s cheeks when they separated.

  Together, they’d discussed everything that had happened over the weekend. Alice continued to refresh coffee mugs as they analyzed the new information. It wasn’t much. Callie hadn’t been able to clearly see the figure’s face, due to the darkness, the dripping tangle of hair, and the sheer horror. At least she could be certain it was a woman, though, and that put the disgruntled former farmhand theory to rest. Callie’s new theory was that this woman may have died somewhere on the property, which made her spirit stronger than Henry’s, despite the fact that he’d lived at Hillwood his entire life. But neither Alice nor Luke could come up with any guesses as to who the mystery woman might be, or why she was currently tormenting them. The one bright spot in the frustration surrounding the mystery was that Luke no longer seemed to have any doubts about the existence of ghosts.

  Callie had spent most of that day going through the boxes from the attic, discovering nothing of significance. A peaceful sleep that night gave her renewed energy, though, and on Tuesday morning she returned to Hillwood to continue her task. She and Luke had gone on another trail ride, too. Friday evening’s kiss had not come up, even while they were alone in the privacy of the woods. It was as though they’d made an unspoken agreement as they left the barn to keep the conversation light. God knew they both deserved a respite from difficult subjects.

  Now it was Wednesday, a bizarre anniversary of sorts. “You know what I realized?” she asked. “It was a week ago today that I first came to Hillwood.”

  One side of Luke’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “I bet you regret that decision on an hourly basis.”

  She laughed. “A normal person probably would. But…I wanted to help, and I still do.” Glancing away, she threaded her fingers through her hair. “And I’m glad I met you and Alice.”

  He straightened, giving her a long look. “I’m glad too. But I do worry about you.” Exhaling, he set the power drill down on a workbench. “I’m hoping you’ll reconsider coming to stay here with us, in the house.” Locking his gaze with hers, he added, “I promise not to kiss you unexpectedly again. I just wanted to say that, in case what happened the other night is factoring into your decision.”

  Oh. Her pulse accelerated. “I…,” she trailed off, twisting her hands together. She wanted to be honest with him. And to make sure he knew she’d enjoyed the kiss, even though it couldn’t go anywhere. It was time to explain why, before things got complicated. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I liked the kiss. Actually, that’s the understatement of the year.” If she was going to be honest, she may as well go for broke. “It’s just that…well, this is going to sound presumptuous, but it’s just that I’m not a person who can have a relationship.”

  He frowned, his brow creasing. “Why not? Is it the psychic thing?”

  She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, hoping to cool the fire spreading through her. “That’s part of it.”

  He took a few steps closer to her, settling his hands on his hips. “What’s the rest?”

  “It’s a sad story.”

  Pushing himself up onto the table, he sat beside her. “Tell me.”

  Blowing out a breath, she twisted her hair into a coil over one shoulder. “Okay,” she agreed, her voice wavering slightly. “You already know about my parents. My mom and I had to move my dad into a memory care center when I was a junior in college. At that point, he was becoming a danger to himself and to others, but we also knew my mom’s prognosis was bad, and there was no way I could manage Dad myself if she was gone. When he first started showing signs, I decided to stay local for college, and live at home to help out. But even leaving him for a few hours here and there to attend classes would have been disastrous.”

  Luke reached for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. “I’m sure that must have been a tough decision.”

  She nodded. “It was. But, I did have someone I relied on, someone who was always there for me.” Her throat tightened. “Andrew and I started dating when I was 16. He was the other reason I didn’t want to go away to school. My friends thought it was ridiculous, but I knew what we had was real. We were together seven years.”

  Luke remained silent, his head down, his grip on her hand firm and comforting.

  “He helped get me through everything. My dad’s decline, my mom’s death. We were going to get married. He was saving up for a ring.” She inhaled, fighting to stay in control.

  “Then one night, there was this concert in Boston I wanted to go to. I was really excited because I managed to get tickets at the last minute. Andrew didn’t think we should go, because it was winter and the forecast was calling for some freezing rain later that night. But I convinced him.”

  Luke seemed to sense where her story was going, and he pulled her hand onto his lap and cupped his other hand around it, enclosing it entirely.

  It was getting more difficult to choke out the words, but she had to finish. “A tractor-trailer lost control and hit us. Our car rolled. I don’t remember anything beyond that, but I learned later that Andrew died before the rescuers could even get us out.”

  “Oh, God, Callie. That’s awful.”

  She stifled a sob. “It was my fault.”

  “No. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s what Andrew said.”

  It took Luke a moment to process her meaning. “You…spoke to him? After?”

  She wiped at her face with her free hand, nodding her head. “I was in a coma for a few days, but right after the accident, while I was in surgery, I nearly died too. I flatlined for a few seconds. And the whole ‘head towards the light’ thing happened to me. It was beautiful, and I wanted to go. And then there was my mother, somehow communicating with me in this place in-between. She wouldn’t let me go with her. She told me I had to stay. When I kept trying to get to her, she reminded me that Dad needed me. So, I stayed.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible.”

  She took the bottle of water he passed to her, pulling in a long sip. “I regretted it, once I woke up and learned about Andrew. I was inconsolable. I didn’t want to get out of my hospital bed, I wouldn’t eat, I refused to participate in rehab. And then Andrew started talking to me, insisting he loved me and he didn’t want me to feel guilty, that it wasn’t my fault. I thought it was a result of my head injury. The doctors claimed I was lucky, and that my brain injury was considered mild, but when you keep hearing voices, it’s pretty easy to come to the conclusion that you’ve lost your mind.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But then another spirit started speaking to me, asking me to relay a message to one of my physical therapists, and when the things I suddenly knew from the voices were confirmed by someone else, I realized maybe I wasn’t crazy. It was enough to convince me Andrew’s spirit really was talking to me. And he told me he couldn’t move on until I forgave myself and dedicated all my energy to recovery. So…I did my best. For him. And for my dad. And eventually, once I got stronger, Andrew said goodbye.” She closed her eyes, drained.

  Still holding her hand, Luke pushed himself off the table and turned to face her. He pulled her towards him, murmuring, “I’m so, so sorry, Callie.” As she unfolded her legs and leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around her.

  Hot, silent tears slipped down her cheeks as he held her against his chest. Beneath her ear, the sound of his heartbeat calmed her own. Her head moved slightly with the rise and fall of his quiet breaths, the rhythm steady and soothing.

  When the pain had ebbed and the tears had dried, she lifted her face to look up at him. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily. She pulled one of her hands from around his waist and ran a knuckle beneath her swollen eyes. “I didn’t mean to unload all this emotional stuff on you. I just…wanted you to know.”

  He laid his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you told me. I asked you to, remember?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes.”

  “But I agre
e with Andrew. It was not your fault. Accidents happen.”

  Pulling in a breath, she opened her eyes. His wide chest filled her field of vision, the dark splotches on his gray T-shirt a reminder of her tears. She hadn’t wanted to lose control in front of him. And yet, she felt better.

  Luke lifted his head, sliding his hands up to smooth her hair. “Andrew sounds like a great guy who loved you very much. I don’t think he would want you to swear off relationships forever.”

  “He was a great guy. And I have no doubt he would want me to be happy. I just can’t risk going through that kind of pain ever again.” She paused for a beat. “And I hope you don’t think I was implying you might want a relationship with me. I just wanted you to know why I’m…the way I am,” she finished, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug.

  “Hey.” He cupped the sides of her face, gently tipping her head back until their eyes met. “I think you’re amazing.” His thumbs trailed over her cheekbones in a slow caress. “And I do want you to think about coming to stay here, at least while this scary stuff is going on. If you want me to promise not to kiss you again, I will.”

  She blinked at him, dazed. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart flipped. Suddenly, all she wanted was to feel his mouth on hers. To forget about everything but this man, standing in front of her, stroking her skin with the rough pads of his thumbs. “I want you to kiss me, too,” she said, her voice low and breathless.

  He lowered his face to hers, his lips lingering above hers for an agonizing moment of anticipation. She moaned as his mouth closed over hers, and tender kisses quickly turned urgent, like fire gaining fuel.