The Coldwater Haunting

by Michael Richan

  Nah, don’t want to know bad enough to deal with her.

  He turned off the lights and went back upstairs, hoping, with one less pillow in the house, he might still find a dry one to sleep on.

  Chapter Eight

  “What’s she doing here?” Ron said, looking up from the table saw. A white Volkswagen Beetle came to a stop behind Jake’s truck, and Freedom emerged from it, her hair piled high on her head, her makeup achieving a half-Amy Winehouse.

  Immediately Ron felt defensive. Freedom was carrying a small bag over her shoulder. She chewed gum with her mouth slightly open as she approached Jake.

  “Baby!” she said.

  “Thanks for coming,” Jake replied, smiling at her, showing her the paint that covered his hands.

  Ron walked up to her, offering a fake smile. “Freedom.”

  “Hi.”

  Ron turned to Jake. His friend looked away, not returning his gaze.

  “Nice place,” Freedom said, studying the facade. “Why he couldn’t tell me he was working on your new house I don’t know. Boys’ time, I guess. Everything’s got to be a secret from the old lady, like I’m gonna throw a fit or somethin’.”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Ron said, feigning innocence, doubting Freedom bought it. He turned to Jake. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell her. I guess you haven’t been communicating properly.”

  Jake offered a weak smile as a reply.

  “You want the tour?” Ron asked.

  “Sure, why not,” she answered, walking to the front door. “Can I use the potty first?”

  “Let me show you,” Ron said, leading her to the guest room. “Just drop your stuff there; the bathroom is inside.”

  Freedom went in and closed the door, the sound of her smacking gum quickly fading.

  Ron looked at Jake, and this time Jake sheepishly returned the stare.

  “All this weird shit freaked me out, dude,” Jake said. “Especially that stuff last night. I couldn’t get back to sleep. I kept thinking I needed to do something, but I didn’t want to bail on you, so, at like 4 AM I had this wild idea that maybe she could help, so I texted her, asked her to come. I felt better when she texted back saying she would drive up.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Then when I woke up, I felt a little stupid about it. Seemed kinda chicken shit on my part, so I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want to ruin your morning.”

  “I appreciate you letting me have a nice morning,” Ron replied sarcastically.

  “It might work out OK, buddy. You never know, she might be able to help.”

  “Help?”

  “With what’s going on here.”

  “Going on?”

  “You know, all the weird shit.”

  “What’s she gonna do? Put crystals everywhere?”

  “Maybe. Wouldn’t hurt. She might help in other ways, too.”

  “She gonna help us with the work?”

  “No, I meant she might…detect some things. Figure out why all the weirdness. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

  “No, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Ron replied, realizing that as much as he wasn’t going to enjoy Freedom being around, it was a done deal now, and he’d have to tolerate her if he wanted Jake’s continued help. They stood outside the guest room door awkwardly for a few moments, waiting for her to return.

  “I shoulda told you.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Sorry.”

  Another pause.

  Freedom emerged. “Well, Ron! Jake tells me you need a cleaning.”

  “Yeah, the house is filthy.”

  She began to walk around, inspecting. “It does need some Spic and Span, that’s for sure, but from what he tells me, you need a very different kind of cleaning.”

  “What exactly did he tell you?”

  “I just told her that things seemed a little weird here,” Jake offered, his voice carefully balanced to sound neutral. “You know, that things didn’t feel quite right.”

  “There’s no question the place is energetically skewed,” Freedom replied, walking into the kitchen, looking high and low, scanning everything. She paused and closed her eyes as though she was sensing something. Ron watched as her hand reached out to the kitchen counter, and she gently glided her fingers over the granite.

  “You’re gonna need to reseal that,” she said, opening her eyes and continuing her self-led tour.

  “Lots to do here,” Ron replied. “That’s why I was so grateful Jake was willing to help.”

  She made her way around the rest of the ground floor, spouting observations as though she was house shopping, commenting on various features and things she liked and didn’t like.

  “I can only stay the night,” she said as she made her way through the dining room. “I gotta be in Portland tomorrow for a seminar. Man the table.”

  “The table?” Ron asked.

  “She sells stuff,” Jake offered. “At these little get-togethers they throw.”

  “It’s not a get-together,” Freedom corrected, turning the corner and making her way to the stairs. “It’s a seminar. There are speakers and stuff.” Ron thought she was going to go up, but she changed direction at the last minute and came to a stop at the door under the stairs. “Is there a basement?”

  “No,” Ron replied. “That’s just a closet.”

  She reached for the doorknob, but pulled her hand away quickly before touching it, as though her fingers had been shocked. “Nuh uh!” she said dramatically. “No way!” She turned and went back to the stairs, her eyes rolling as she walked past.

  “No way?” Ron asked.

  “Not going in there!” she said. “Nuh uh.” She started up the staircase. Ron and Jake followed.

  “Why not?” Ron asked.

  “When you become attuned to things like I am, you know how to avoid the bad juju.”

  “Under the stairs is bad juju?”

  “Most definitely,” she replied, her gum smacking as she climbed.

  “Why? What’s in there?”

  “Don’t know, don’t wanna know,” she replied, cresting the top of the stairs and continuing her inspection.

  “I thought by walking around you were trying to get rid of bad juju,” Ron said. “How can you do that if you avoid it?”

  “Who said I was trying to get rid of it?” she replied. “I thought you offered a tour! Besides, I cannot have any of that kind of negative energy for tomorrow. I won’t sell a damn thing if I do. Oh, look, a Jack and Jill bathroom!”

  The tour continued until Freedom had seen every room and corner of the house. They came to a stop near the bay windows in the master bedroom. “OK,” she said, looking down into the back yard. “I’ll clean what I can while you two work.”

  “You think that’ll fix things?” Jake asked nervously.

  “Depends,” she replied.

  “Sounds iffy,” Ron said.

  “I can clean the place,” she continued, “but that doesn’t guarantee anything.”

  “Huh,” Ron replied. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “It’s worth a shot, though,” Jake said, jumping in. “Right, Freedom? Can’t hurt?”

  “Like I said, it depends,” she answered, turning to look at them. “You don’t expect a doctor to cure you if you’re not willing to tell her what your symptoms are, do you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked.

  “Well, Jake has told me what he saw. I have some idea of what he’s experienced, but I suspect you’ve seen some things too, Ron. Am I right?”

  It was one thing to let Freedom run around his new house, checking out the place; it seemed an altogether different thing to confess to her all the strange things he’d seen the past few nights. He didn’t care for the idea of explaining to her how terrified he felt when he saw the weird figures in the yard, or how paranoid his dreams had become. It wasn’t just that he disliked the idea of subjecting himself to Freedom’s perspective or analysis; he
didn’t want to admit to anyone the fear he experienced. It made him feel vulnerable; his brain was telling him he needed to remain stalwart. Looking at Freedom’s face, the smirk just under her smile as she readied to hear him relate something that she would use to validate her irrational and ridiculous interests and passions – something she knew he was dismissive of – made him decide to play things down.

  “It felt like something was here,” he wound up saying, knowing it was vague.

  “Something? Like what?”

  “Hard to say. A creepy feeling.”

  “Jake made it sound like a lot more than that.”

  “What exactly did you tell her?” Ron asked Jake.

  “Never mind that,” she said, “why don’t you just tell me, Ron?”

  Now she’s looking to see if I’m lying, he thought. Comparing what Jake might have already said to whatever I might say. He resolved to not give her the satisfaction. “Like I said, a creepy feeling.”

  “Tell her about the ghosts,” Jake said.

  Ron feigned ignorance, looking at Jake as though he’d made it up.

  “You know, the ones you saw in the back yard,” Jake continued, “looking into the house.” Jake was clearly not taking his cue that he didn’t want to spill everything to Freedom.

  That’s because he actually thinks she’s here to help, while I think she’s here to show me up, to rub my nose in things, to make me look like an idiot.

  “I think that was a dream,” Ron replied, giving Jake a half smile, hoping he’d take the hint.

  “Tell me about it,” Freedom insisted. “I need to know.”

  Ron sighed. In light of her insistence, he decided to cave a little. “I thought I saw figures outside, down there on the lawn.”

  “Looking into the house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How many?”

  “A dozen or so.”

  “What did they look like?”

  “I don’t know, kind of fuzzy.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Just stared into the downstairs windows.”

  “Were they moving?”

  “Yeah, a little. More like drifting.”

  “Tell her about the one!” Jake interjected. “The one who floated up!”

  Ron cringed. “It was a dream.”

  “One floated up?” she asked.

  “Yes. It saw me and rose up from the ground until it was hanging in the air, right out there.” Ron pointed to the window.

  “Just hanging?”

  “Yeah. Kinda crucifixion like.”

  “What did it do after that?”

  “I don’t know; I turned on the light. Couldn’t see out anymore.”

  “So, that’s it? Nothing else?”

  Ron was still unsure of how much Jake had told her, but since she seemed ready for a conclusion, he didn’t feel the need to offer any more. “Yeah, they were gone.”

  “So the light from the room cast out through these windows,” she speculated, looking back into the yard, “and it dispelled them?”

  “I guess you could say that. When I woke up, I…”

  “Was it a dream, or not?” she asked, cutting him off. “I need to know. There’s a big difference.”

  “In retrospect, it felt like a dream.”

  “But not at the time?”

  “The next morning.”

  “Because your rational mind needed an explanation?”

  “I suppose.”

  “But it seemed real, when it happened?”

  Ron sighed again. She seemed so insistent that it was real, and he hated the idea of agreeing with her, of acknowledging that it had really happened and in some way validating her perspective. “I suppose,” he repeated, trying his best to sound skeptical.

  She peered down into the yard, thinking. “Working outside is more involved, but the weather seems OK. There’s a few things I can try. I’m gonna need some quiet in the house for a little while; can you two work out in the garage? Stay out for, say, an hour or so?”

  “You’re gonna sage the place?” Jake asked.

  “Definitely. More, if required.”

  “More, like what?” Ron asked.

  “Come on, Ron,” Jake said, pulling his friend by the shoulder. “Let’s just go outside and let her do her thing.” Ron allowed himself to be turned by his friend, following him downstairs.

  “And I don’t guarantee anything about that room under the stairs!” she called after them.

  Just what I need, Ron thought. She’s gonna enjoy inspecting every little nook and cranny of the house, looking for flaws. Stuff she can use to tell Elenore the house is defective.

  When they got outside, Ron walked to the table saw and picked up the board he’d been working on. Before he turned on the blade, Jake stopped him.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Jake said. “I can tell you’re pissed.”

  “Not pissed.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “Well, I hope she doesn’t think I’m pissed.”

  “What she’s gonna do might really help!” Jake offered, almost pleading, trying to diffuse and right things at the same time. He returned to a piece of trim he’d been working on before Freedom’s arrival. “Can’t hurt, right?”

  Can it? Ron wondered, starting up the table saw so he didn’t have to answer his friend. Is there something she can do that would make things worse, aside from making Elenore hate the place even more? Whatever she’s about to do, could it stir things up? Cause more things to happen? Piss off whatever is here?

  Maybe she’ll irritate them to the point they leave. God knows she irritates me.

  - - -

  They worked on trim for a while, then turned their attention to the plumbing for the well. After several hours outside, Ron realized that he hadn’t heard a single peep from the house.

  “Do you think she’s done?” Ron asked. “I need to go in and use the bathroom.”

  “I have no idea how long her stuff takes to do,” Jake replied.

  Ron considered peeing into the bramble, but decided he’d rather disrupt Freedom. He walked through the garage and entered the house, intending to slip in and use the back bathroom. Everything was quiet as he entered, and he couldn’t help glancing toward the living room as he went through the kitchen, ready to explain himself if he should encounter her.

  He stopped; something on the ground in the living room caught his eye.

  It’s a shoe…

  Concerned, he changed direction. As he rounded the corner from the kitchen, Freedom’s body came into view; she was lying on her back, her head facing up.

  His first instinct was to call for Jake, worried that she was in trouble. Catching himself before he hollered, he wondered if Freedom was still performing her cleansing, and if he might be interrupting if he were to yell.

  He approached her. She looked stiff; her arms were extended rigidly at her sides. When he saw her face, he knew something was definitely wrong; her eyes were open but white, rolled back into her head. She’s having a seizure, he thought, checking her breathing. Her chest rose and fell steadily, her nostrils parting slightly with each breath.

  He decided to check her pulse, anticipating that she would awake when he touched her wrist. She might be pissed at me for disrupting whatever she’s doing, he thought, reaching for her arm, feeling between the tendons.

  Steady pulse. Breathing fine. Maybe it’s all part of her ritual.

  He left the room, headed for the garage. He found Jake sawing through a PVC tube, and waved for him to stop. The man lowered the saw.

  “Freedom is lying on the floor in the living room,” Ron said. “Staring up at the ceiling.”

  Jake looked confused. “On the floor?”

  “I felt like I should check her…she’s breathing and her pulse is fine. Is this part of her cleansing thing?”

  Jake’s confusion turned to concern. He placed the pipe on the ground and walked inside, Ron following. They came to a stop near Freedom’s feet and
stared down at her.

  “So, is this normal?” Ron whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Jake whispered back.

  “I didn’t want to wake her, if it was part of her thing she was doing…”

  “Yeah.”

  “But she didn’t wake up when I checked her pulse.”

  Jake moved to her side. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”

  “They’re rolled back in her head. So, you’ve never seen her do this before?”

  “I usually don’t hang around when she’s doing her woowoo,” Jake replied, then turned. “What’s this?”

  Lying on the ground a few feet away was a curved shell, about the size of a hand. Next to it was a bundle of small, thin twigs that had been tied tightly together with red thread. Jake lifted them from the ground and sniffed at it.

  “Sage?” Ron asked.

  “Looks like she dropped it,” Jake replied, observing the charred end of the bundle. He glanced at his girlfriend again, then back at Ron. “Maybe something is really wrong.”

  “I was thinking a seizure. She ever had them before? Seizures?”

  “No,” Jake answered, looking down at Freedom, “not as far as I know. I think we should try to wake her. If we’re interfering with her work, she’ll be pissed, but if something’s wrong I may need to get her to a hospital. Only way to know is to do it.” He knelt next to her and reached for her arm, giving it a light tug.

  Freedom didn’t respond, so he tried her shoulders, shaking her gently. When that didn’t work, he looked at Ron. “What now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wish we had some of that shit they use on TV, stuff they hold under people’s noses when they faint. They smell it and wake up.”

  “Smelling salts.”

  “Yeah, got some?”

  “What, you think it’s 1850? No, I don’t have smelling salts.”

  “Something else that smells strong? Garlic, maybe?”

  “Yeah,” Ron replied, walking to the kitchen as Jake continued to shake Freedom’s shoulders, trying to rouse her. He returned with a clove and handed it to him.

  Jake pinched the clove and raised it closer to his face, taking a sniff. “Oh, yeah, that’s strong.” He held it under Freedom’s nose, moving it from nostril to nostril, but her eyes still remained in the back of her head, the lack of pupils becoming more disturbing by the second, making it appear that she was under some kind of trance, or possession.