The Haunting of Crawley House (The Hauntings Of Kingston Book 1)

by Dorey, Michelle

  Ignoring it, she smiled. “She’s a nice girl.” She folded her hands on her lap and cleared her throat. “Keira? In my bedroom is a small embroidered pillow on my love seat. Would you mind getting it for me?”

  I blinked and then popped to my feet once more. “Sure thing.”

  I made my way over to her bedroom and went in. A large bed with a red satin spread sat against the far wall, while a set of French doors next to it showed the side of the property and her rose garden. When I stepped inside, the wall opposite her bed showed a floor-to-ceiling wall of shelves filled with books. The love seat sofa sat next to it and sure enough, there was a blue pillow embroidered with white flowers, tucked into the arm. Unlike the other rooms, my feet sank into wall-to-wall beige carpeting as I strode over to get the pillow. The air in the room was warm with an overlay of the scent of roses.

  When I picked up the pillow, I stopped short. A wave of dizziness washed through my head and I grasped the arm of the sofa. The image of an old woman, her white hair swept back from a tanned and wrinkled face flashed in my mind. Her eyes were small and dark like a bird’s behind thick glasses which perched on her fleshy nose. Sadness flooded through me and I hugged the pillow into my leaden stomach.

  The pillow was the last Mother’s Day gift from her son. He’d given it to her and then boarded the train with the other troops. It was the last time she saw him. A tear rolled down my cheek and I brushed it away with the back of my hand. The old woman had held that pillow and spilled many tears into the old tattered fabric.

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. What was happening to me? The woman had felt so real in my head, her sorrow consuming me. This had never happened with any other object I’d touched. My shoulders squared and I walked back out of the room. GM had known about the pillow. It was another one of her ‘tests’. But instead of fear, this time the emotion was sorrow.

  As I walked under the set of stairs, still clutching the pillow—the name Helen and then Jeremy—popped into my head. The mother and her son. My forehead was furrowed trying to puzzle this out. Why now? Why had this never happened before if I had this so-called gift?

  When I stepped into the sunroom, GM’s head rose and her eyes focused on mine. She also looked sad... but more than that, she looked tired and old. The bit of color that had been in her cheeks when we were outside earlier, and at lunch, had faded and there was a gray pallor to her skin.

  I paused, staring into her eyes. “Helen and Jeremy. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  She nodded and then leaned forward. “Can you put the pillow behind me?”

  When I tucked the pillow in, more of her hair had escaped the French roll like she’d just got out of bed or something. “You knew I’d feel Helen’s sadness didn’t you?” It was still there actually, sitting like a lump, low in my gut.

  “I’d hoped.” She sat back, a small smile turning her lips. “You not only have clairvoyance but you have psychometric ability. Just touching the pillow, you were able to know the story behind it.”

  I took a seat and hunched forward looking at her. “But why now, GM? I’ve never done this before.” In all the time in New York, never once had I seen a spirit or touched objects and got mental movies from them. This was beyond weird. I felt wobbly, like I’d drunk a bottle of wine but my mind was still clear.

  “I bought this place because of the psychic energy in this house... on the grounds. If any of your gifts were to emerge, I knew it would happen here.” Her hand closed over mine and she squeezed it. “Even the pillow... I picked it up in an antique store, but with you in mind.” Her eyes closed for a minute and it looked like she was dozing off.

  “GM? Are you all right?” My eyes opened wider as a surge of concern filled me. She was old... and she looked worn-out right then.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she grasped her cane, banging it on the floor a few times. “Keira. I’m afraid I’ll need to lie down now. All of this has tired me.” She smiled. “I’m pleased with you. We’ll talk again at dinner.”

  Lawrence appeared and his face was flushed from the speed he’d taken to get there so quick. His eyes narrowed, peering at me like I’d done something horrid to GM. He rushed forward and his hand cupped her shoulder. “Are you okay, Pamela?”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Of course, dear. Just tired is all. I’ll go for my nap early today.” She rose to her feet and I watched the two of them, hunched and plodding like exhausted pack animals, leave the room.

  The blue upholstered pillow sat in the chair like an accusation.

  My shoulders drooped lower. That poor woman, Helen, had cherished the pillow, the last gift from her son. Since I’d been there I’d only sent one text to my mother—something which was as easy as breathing in this day and age. Just as Jeremy had been Helen’s only child, I was Mom’s only child.

  With a sigh of guilt, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. Of course, now that I wasn’t planning on leaving I had a full signal. My fingers flew over the keypad. It was just a quick note to let her know I hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth and that well... despite sending me to GM’s house, I still loved her. I glanced over at the cushion and rose to my feet. There! I sent a text to my mother, okay?

  Having dealt with the Helen and Jeremy guilt pillow, I stretched and sighed again. This house and everything GM had told me today was closing in on me. Ghosts in my bedroom, guilt pillows, and saving reality all in one day. This place was starting to press in on me. I needed a dose of normal like a junkie needed a fix. Plus, I hadn’t been out of the house in two days!

  I raced upstairs, slowing down when I got to the few steps below my room. Taking a deep breath, I walked up and scanned the sitting area from one side to the other. There were no ghosts and things were exactly as I had left them. I changed out of the shorts and threw a pair of jeans on.

  “You’ll take care of my shorts, won’t you, Molly?” So weird. Having a ghostly maid.

  I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder. There was still twenty dollars in it—enough to buy me a coffee when I got to the city. Surely, there would be a Starbucks... and some people close to my age hanging around there. I’d leave a note for Lawrence that I borrowed the car. If I didn’t, he’d probably be on the phone so fast it’d make your head spin and there’d be an all-points police warrant or something out on me.

  Just a short sanity break, a chance to catch my breath.

  Lord knows, I’d earned it.

  THIRTEEN

  WITH THE WINDOW ROLLED DOWN AND THE RADIO BLASTING, I maneuvered the land yacht down the highway, breaking the speed limit if not the sound barrier. The wind lifted my hair and my fingers kept a steady beat on the leather clad steering wheel. Freedom!

  I entered the city limits, cruising past an army base. On the left was a sign—”Royal Military College.” Hmm... their version of West Point? Hot guys in uniforms? Things were looking up already.

  I crossed a bridge and was in the heart of downtown Kingston. Compared to New York it was pretty small; you could fit the downtown core with its few high rises into Central Park and not even notice it was there. Still, it was a city; I could feel myself relaxing into the bustle. I’m a city girl through and through. A country setting’s nice and all, but I feel more at home with sidewalks and traffic lights.

  When I cruised down the main street, I spotted the universal green sign with the mermaid wearing a crown and smiled. It even says Starbucks in Canada! Yes! I could almost taste the cinnamon in the latte as I searched the street for a parking spot.

  I found a space on the block just past the coffee shop and parked the car. Just as I pulled the door open, someone called my name and I spun around.

  “Keira?”

  Coming up the walkway was a brunette in a white shirt and navy shorts waving hi. The mail lady? What was her name? Gwen, that was it.

  “Hi Gwen.” The last thing I expected when I walked down the street in this city was to meet someone I knew. Talk about a small
city…

  I was still holding the door open and she grinned at me. “This is my after-work ritual. Nothing says you’re finished for the day better than a butterscotch latte.”

  “No way! Cinnamon’s the best, even if I didn’t spend the day working.” I held the door open for her and followed inside.

  The smell of fresh roasted coffee filled the air as I looked around, checking the place out. It was doing a steady business with the under-thirty set. Gwen turned and her voice was low. “There’re still lots of students in the city even though it’s summer break.” Her dark eyes flitted across the room. “I see an empty table. Want to join me?”

  I smiled. “Sure.” We were close in age and it would be a welcome change from the octogenarian set. I watched her turn to give our orders to the guy behind the counter. She spun quickly and grinned. “It was cinnamon latte right?”

  When I nodded she continued. “Coffee’s on me. Consider it a welcome-to-the-city gesture.”

  “Thanks.” In just a minute the server set the two cups of frothy drinks on the counter. We made our way to the empty table near the large window overlooking the street.

  She tugged the chair out and set her latte on the small wooden table. “So how long are you in town, Keira?”

  I took a seat and emptied a bit of sugar into the hot cup. “I don’t know.” I looked down into my coffee, stirring it. It was a good question. Could be, I’d never leave or I might be gone tomorrow. But I couldn’t tell her that. “I came here to look after my grandmother, but to be honest, she seems pretty healthy. I mean, Mom made it sound like she was on death’s door.”

  Gwen took a sip of her drink and her eyebrows rose high. “You too, huh? I take care of my dad. He’s had MS for years but now it’s progressed to the point that he can’t work anymore.”

  The smile dropped from my lips. “I’m sorry to hear that. That must be rough.” I couldn’t imagine if my parents weren’t healthy. Dealing with GM was one thing; she was old, but Gwen’s dad was probably a lot younger.

  She looked down, slowly stirring the foam into the dark mixture. “He’s not completely helpless but it’s hard for him walking. My brother spells me off sometimes, so that helps.” She brightened and managed a smile. “So what’s it like living in your grandmother’s house? I’ve always wondered what it’d be like inside. The grounds are gorgeous, I can only imagine how... how elegant it would be on the inside.”

  I nodded. “It’s straight out of Downton Abbey—high plaster ceilings, wooden paneling all over the place, hardwood floors…” I leaned in. “And the bathrooms have those huge claw-foot tubs you can almost swim in!”

  “Yep. I was right; it sounds elegant.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and it has a beautiful view of the river from her sunroom. That’s her favorite room in the house. You can see the river flowing to Lake Ontario from it. We have breakfast and lunch there.”

  She chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. Judging by the gardens, she’s got a real green thumb. I’m sure Lawrence does a lot to help... how else could she manage that huge house?” Her eyes met mine over the rim.

  “Yeah. He’s pretty devoted to her.” I grimaced and looked down into my own latte. “Me, not so much.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t get along with your grandmother? She’s—”

  “No, not her; she’s fine. A little eccentric, but at her age she’s earned it, I guess. Let’s just say Lawrence isn’t my biggest fan.” I wasn’t going to get into my suspicions over him wanting GM’s inheritance.

  Her mouth pulled to the side in a small smirk. “Well, old people get set in their ways, I guess; he’s been with her for years and years and you just showed up.” She looked out the window and waved to a middle-aged man, also in the postal garb. He was getting into his car and waved back.

  When she turned back and smiled, I spoke, “So, do you like delivering mail?”

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t the career I studied for but it’s probably worked out better than being a physicist.”

  “A physicist?”

  “Yeah,” she smiled as she started toying with her napkin. “Theoretical physics to be precise.”

  “I didn’t even take physics in high school. All that math and stuff…”

  Gwen waved her hand, dismissively. “Yeah, I got game when it comes to math; but I really sucked at writing papers.” She looked away. “It was pretty cool though. We were doing some backup work here at Queen’s University for the Higgs boson project in Europe when I left.”

  “The what?”

  She was still staring out the window. “They called it the search for ‘The God Particle.’” She turned back to me, her eyes bright. “And they found it!” She shook her head. “When I left, I was just about to wrap up my master’s and I was going back and forth whether to work in that area or string theory for my doctorate.” She shrugged. “But life made my decision for me.”

  “What happened?”

  “My dad got sick. Well… sicker. It got so bad he had to stop working. His disability pension isn’t enough to live on, so I got the job with the post office. I had been part time when I was in school, so it was easier for me to grab a full-time slot when it opened up.” She shrugged again. “So here I am.”

  My academic efforts, as scattered as they were, seemed small time. The woman delivering our mail was a Brainiac. I felt for her. She had something she had worked on for years and had to give it up, and I couldn’t even finish a course in photography. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

  She shrugged again. “It’s really not that big a deal. The pay and benefits are okay, and I’m done by three so I can be home to look after Dad.” She pointed her chin at me. “How about you? What do you do when you’re not visiting your grandmother?” There was an easy way about Gwen. She’d asked like she was really interested rather than being in some kind of pissing contest.

  I made a crooked smile. “I’m an underachiever. I tried my hand at social work, photography and my latest venture was in acting school. I pretty much got booted out of everything I tried.” I could just about laugh now about my parents kicking me out of the nest. The nest I’d landed in—if I decided to stay, that is—was pretty feathered.

  “You just haven’t found your passion yet. That’s all.” Her face had turned serious and she leaned over the table folding her hands primly together.

  I couldn’t help the chuckle which bubbled in my throat at her words. “Seriously? C’mon Gwen. You can’t tell me that delivering mail is your passion.” Talk about underachiever, especially if she’d studied physics.

  She took a breath and her head fell to the side, looking down at the table. “No… but it’s my job.” She lifted her eyes at me. “My family’s my passion.”

  My cheeks flared hotly and I looked down into the cup of coffee. “Sorry about that crack. You did the right thing. Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?” I couldn’t imagine looking after an aging parent and worrying about money. “So it’s just you and your dad living together?”

  “Yup. My brother, Sean, lives in Toronto. He’s a Customs Broker. I was always closer to my dad anyway, so it made sense for me to look after him.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It works for all of us.”

  She hadn’t mentioned anything about her mother and I wasn’t asking. I’d already put my foot in my mouth once. “So, what do you do for fun? I noticed that military college. Must be lots of guys around here.” She also hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend. Maybe we could hit the night life sometime, even if she was worlds away from Cerise and the Greenwich Village club scene. Gwen wore very little makeup and she certainly didn’t need it, not with those eyes.

  Her eyebrows bobbed high before she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “There’s no shortage of single men in this town, that’s for sure. In addition to the military college there’s a huge military base in Kingston.” Her lips pulled back in a small grimace. “I’m not into the bar scene though.”