by Riley Ross, Sally Slayer, Kaydence Rayne, & Dovey Mayali Cralk
Chapter Four
Pippa was already leaning against the shelves when he dropped this bit of info on her.
"What do you mean, 'I'm not a ghost'?" Looking around as the door swung open, she couldn't find any sign of him. "Ah! You can't just leave a girl with something like that! Get back here!"
There was no answer, just empty air where his voice had come from.
Huffing in frustration, Pippa stepped into the room. It wasn't huge, not like what one would expect a hidden room to be from the way movies showed, but still spacious. The walls were lined with book shelves, all packed to overflowing. Most were the classics, and nothing newer than around 20 years ago. Overstuffed blue plush chairs sat facing each other in front of a white marble fireplace, with a covered square table in between them. Black marble topped side tables completed the cozy set up. Everything else was covered in dusty cloths, including one whole wall. Pausing to think a moment, Pippa realized that this would be the back wall, facing out to the hills and wildflowers that she loved to watch so much. Something long and rectangular sat against this wall, also covered in a tarp. The only space not covered with books on the other three walls held something else, also covered with a sheet, and a small wooden chest. Though the floor was dirty, she could tell that it was a warm honey colored wood, a beautiful contrast with the rich maroon walls.
She continued pacing around for a few moments, hoping Griffin would reappear and explain himself. When he didn't, she decided to take the frustration out by cleaning the room. She went first to the covered wall and tried to pull the tarp off. When it didn't budge, she realized she was going to need a ladder.
Pippa left the new room, her interest in Griffin having been successfully transferred to the library, and began to stack supplies up in the entrance closet. The ladder, vacuum, dusters, and trash bags each made their way in, and she got started, going back to the wall. She was overjoyed when the drape fell to reveal an entire wall of windows, letting much more light into the dim room.
Telling herself to remember to get some glass cleaner, she moved on to the rectangle at the base of the windows. A beautiful antique fainting couch had been hiding under the sheet, deep azure in color. She had always wanted one, ever since seeing one in a movie when she was a child. She couldn’t help the happy little squeal that escaped her, and she took the vacuum to it. It was lucky it had been covered all this time, or it would have required a professional cleaning.
Next, Pippa moved on to the chairs in the middle of the room. They were more modern than the fainting couch, but matched it exactly in color, and looked very comfortable. She vacuumed these as well, and reminded herself to get fabric freshener when she went for the glass cleaner.
"So, what's under door number three?" she mumbled under her breath, reaching for cloth over the table in the middle. A gasp was the only audible reaction she was able to give. Once it had been revealed, the white marble chess table almost glowed in the light. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Finding drawers under the top, she found the pieces, each hand carved in black marquina or botticino marble. They were breathtaking, and must have cost a fortune. Now, they were hers. Pippa simply stood there in awe for several minutes before she was able to tear her eyes away. Taking a feather duster, she cleaned the table and pieces almost reverently, lost in memories of watching her parents play.
Finally, she moved on, quickly cleaning the side tables and mantle, and then moved on to the last thing that was hidden from view. She had already guessed it was a painting, but had no idea what it was of. Climbing on the ladder, she carefully pulled the tarp free and let it drop to the floor. She didn't look at the painting until she was back down and had moved the ladder. After the beauty of the other things in the room, she wanted to view it full on and undistracted for the first time.
What she saw made her catch her breath. A small girl, wearing a pale yellow, frilly dress, sat in the middle of masses of multicolored wildflowers, with a small pond behind her. A butterfly flew around her head and she was smiling happily, reaching for it. Surrounded by the hills, the artist had done a more beautiful job than any other piece she had ever seen. It didn't even look like a painting, more like someone had frozen a moment in time that would start again and play out at any second; it was so life-like. Something nagged at the back of Pippa's mind, something telling her she had seen this before. That's when it dawned on her. The hills, the flower patch, the pond; they were all in her very own backyard! The thought made her smile a little, but something else about the portrait made her feel sad. She stood there for a long time, just gazing at the child and feeling the odd sense of sorrow.
"Cute, isn't she?"
Pippa jumped and tried to smother a scream. "Dammit! You can't just go sneaking up on people like that! You should wear a bloody bell ‘round your neck."
Griffin laughed and held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump. Would you forgive me if I told you about her?"
"Oh, there are a lot of things you're going to tell me about, buddy! But yes, please tell me who she is."
He nodded and pointed her to one of the chairs. "Nice job you've done, how long was I gone?"
Pippa tried to think. The sun was setting now, but she couldn't seem to remember what time she had come up here. "I'm not really sure, to be honest."
Griffin sat on the chair facing her. She still wondered how he was able to do that, but was almost desperate to find out who the child was. Griffin finally started his story. "That little girl was named Angelique, named for her grandmother, and she was the granddaughter of old man Owens, the guy who built this house. She was the light of his life. See, he bought this property when he was in his 40's. His wife had died in a in a car accident about 10 years earlier, and his son had just had a baby girl. He built this house with own bare hands, and his son and family were going to move in here with him. This was Angie's room. He painted that portrait himself when she was three years old. The week after he finished that, they all went to California on vacation. Mr. Owens was feeling a little sick, so his son and daughter-in-law took Angie to the beach while he rested in the hotel room. She was caught in an undertow and drowned. When he came back, he sealed this room off. He couldn't handle leaving it just as it was, and put these things in it instead, but still wouldn't let anyone else in. That painting was the only thing he held on to of her."
Pippa hadn't noticed that tears had filled her eyes until Griffin asked if she was okay. "That's just so sad. Griffin, how do you know all of this?"
"Oh, when I first started coming here, the old man would talk to me about things, and one day he decided to show me this room, and told me the story. The only reason he left was because he suffered a heart attack. Being so far out of the city, the doctors talked him into moving into an assisted living place, whatever that means. He made me promise to protect the room, as a way to protect Angie's memory. He said I was only allowed to let someone in if I thought they would show it the proper respect and were worthy of it."
She wiped at her cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me all of that, and for letting me in."
Griffin leaned forward. "I wouldn't have if I had known it was going to make you cry!"
"Ah, I'm just a sap, that's all. Don't worry!" she laughed. "Okay, now on to other things, before I blubber any more. What, exactly, did you mean when you said you weren't a ghost?"
He leaned back and gave her that smart ass grin he was so good at. "Now, fair is fair! I've told you a story, now it's your turn. Why weren't you afraid of me when you thought I was a ghost? I promise to tell you mine afterwards. Deal?"
Pippa chewed on her lip and sighed. "Oh, all right. My story isn't exactly happy, though, so consider yourself warned."
He sat there in silence, waiting for her to begin.
Taking a deep breath, she launched in. "When I was a little girl, about six, my mother worked in a diner as a
waitress. She was a real people person, and it was more of a hobby and way to get out of the house than anything else. There was a man who showed up one day, and ordered coffee. My mom took his order and brought it to him, smiled, and said have a nice day. Turned out he was crazy, and started stalking my mum, sending her love letters about their 'affair', and telling her that they would be together soon. It frightened my mother, but the police said there was nothing they could do. She didn't even know his name, for goodness sake! One night, I heard a loud noise downstairs. He had broken down the front door. Mummy shoved me down into the laundry hamper, hiding me from him, but also trying to make sure I couldn't see anything. I could see, though, through the small holes in the side. I watched as he shot daddy when he tried to get between him and mum. He screamed at her, 'look what you made me do!', and kept telling her how much he loved her. I've blocked some of it out, but I remember all too clearly when he shoved a large knife through my mum's heart. 'There were only two bullets,' he said, 'one for you and one for me, but you made me waste one on this bastard who tried to keep us apart!’ He kept saying it was the only way they could be together. As she lay there, bleeding out and gasping, he started looking for me. I knew because he kept asking where his new daughter was. A neighbor had heard the shot and called the police, and when he heard the sirens he ran back to my parent’s room. He got down on the floor beside my mother, between her and daddy, and put the gun in his mouth. I was in such shock that I couldn't even cry for a long time. The only reason the police were able to find me was because one noticed my hair sticking out from under the lid." She took a pause to breathe, trying not to weep. She usually tried not to think about this, because if the sobbing began, it would be hard to stop.
"God, Pipsqueak, that's the most horrible thing I've ever heard!" Griffin came around and tried to hug her instinctively, bothered when his arms went right through her.
She smiled at him, "It's the thought that counts, right? Anyway, after that I went to live with my grandparents. We went back to the house when the police were finished to get my things and a few things to keep of my parents, and that's the first time I ever saw ghosts. It wasn't an intelligent haunting, just a repeat of those last few moments, over and over again like someone had put it on a loop. Since then, I see ghosts anywhere they might be hiding. It's rather uncommon that I find any that aren't just the energy replaying, though. It's also why I said I know how to get rid of you. Mostly, the hauntings are harmless, but they can get to a person so badly that it drives them crazy. A house 'cleaning' is relatively easy to do, and it just clears the energy. But apparently I can't do that with you, Mr. Not-A-ghost! Mind explaining that? I could really use a change of subject right now."
Griffin moved back to his own seat. "My story isn't as tragic as yours, but it's still not all that pleasant. Sure you're up for it?"
"Are you joking? I may go mad if this mystery isn't explained to me soon!"
They shared a chuckle to shake off the morose gloom and Griffin started. "Well, when I was a kid, I started having these weird dreams. I was showing up in this house, seeing a man I had never met in my entire life. My body was just lying back in my room where I had left it. I told my parents and they laughed it off as a child's imagination. Then, it started happening when I was awake. Whenever I got stressed out or scared of something, I'd suddenly appear here again. I found out that I couldn't touch anything, and that kind of frightened me. When I got back to my body, my parents would be freaking out. Apparently I just went kind of slack-jawed when I wasn’t in there. They took me to several doctors, but they all said there was nothing physically wrong with me. People started to talk about 'that crazy kid' when I walked by, and my parents were embarrassed by me. I didn't understand what was happening, couldn't figure out why they were suddenly telling me to stop talking about what was going on. They started taking me to see different kinds of doctors, ones who would ask me strange questions and give me pills to take. I didn't like them; they made my head all fuzzy. Finally, when I was around 12, I guess my parents got tired of trying to deal with me. They sent me, just a scared kid, to live in a 'mental health' facility. Every day, they come in and give me pills. I never take them, I just pretend to, and smuggle them out with other trash. I sit there in the chair by the window, pretending to be the drugged zombie they want, and escape to come here. I've been in the same tiny room for the past 17 years."
Pippa stared at him, stunned. "Your parents had you locked away because they didn't want to deal with you?" she asked softly, unbelieving.
Griffin nodded.
"Oh, Griff, I'm so sorry! That's just awful, you poor thing."
He smiled. "I've dealt with it, don't worry about me. Aren't you curious about me leaving my body?"
She blushed, having been wondering but not wanting to ask more of him than he was ready to tell. "Well, yeah, actually."
"I don't know what it is, or how I do it. This is the only place I've ever been able to go to, though I swear I had never been here in my life before. I can appear in any clothes I want, but only in this house. That's how Mr. Owens and I became friends. He thought his granddaughter had sent me to keep me him company. As time passed, I learned that I could move things with my mind, as you've experienced," he snorted, "And I can interact with physical things. But it's hard. I have to really concentrate to be able to do that, and when I do, my energy is wiped out and I'm pulled back to my body to 'recharge'."
"Wow! I suppose I could research it for you, but Griffin, why did you try to scare me away? Shouldn't you be happy for some company?"
He had the decency to look ashamed of himself. "I am really, truly sorry about that. After Mr. Owens moved out, I thought the new owners would be as friendly as he was. I showed up one day and tried to talk to the couple who had moved in. They screamed when they saw me, and the woman tried to hit me with a broom, thinking I was some punk kid who had broken in. When the bristles went right through me, they ran out of the house and never came back. The next family had a son about my age, John, and he was cruel. He always called me a freak and kept saying I was just a dead boy who wasn't good enough to go to heaven. His parents moved them out within a year. Around that time, there was a nurse who started working in my ward. She reviewed my charts, asked me questions, and actually treated me like a human being. I heard her arguing with the doctor one day, saying that there was no need for me to even be in that place. He said that my parents had already told my sister that I had died, and signed papers saying I was now a ward of the state, and would have to stay there. She never came back after that. I don't know if she was fired or moved to a different floor, but I became angry and even more withdrawn. You remind me a little of her, you know. Anyway, I started thinking of this place as my personal sanctuary, and didn't like it when person after person kept coming in to invade it. That's why I started trying to scare everyone away, and it always worked. Up until you came, that is."
Pippa giggled. "I don't scare easily, Griff! I'm so sorry all of this has happened to you. Can't they let you out now? You're plenty old enough to be released without a guardian, after all."
He looked down. "They've decided that after all this time I wouldn't know how to function in the real world."
Silence fell for a while, and Pippa filled it by opening the small chest. She was smiling at the sweetness of Mr. Owens as she pulled out over a hundred old love letters between he and his wife, when a though struck her.
"What if I came to visit you?" she said suddenly.
Griffin laughed. "That would be nice, but I don't even know where I am. I don't know where my sister is, and I have no way of finding out."
"What about the internet?"
He cocked his head to the side. "I've heard of 'internet', but I don't know what it is. I'm locked away in a nut house, remember? No one ever stayed here long enough for me to figure things like that out."
"Hm. I could tea
ch you about it, you know."
They talked about it for a little while longer, deciding that getting to know each other better should be their first order of business. Pippa was glad when she discovered that Griffin used to play chess with Mr. Owens, and the two began to play every day.
For the next few weeks, the two spent every moment they could together, become good friends. Griffin even helped with her sewing, though there wasn't much he could do. Sliding her scissors or pin cushion over was about the extent of it, but to her it was still a huge help.
On the anniversary of her parent’s deaths, he wanted to comfort her. Unable to even give her a hug, he came up with a plan to cheer her up and distract her from the nightmares she had had the night before. She was busy in the kitchen, pouring over recipe books, when he called to her from the other side of the room. “Is that you, Ms. Bennet?”
Pippa whirled around to find him standing there, back straight and dressed in period clothes, pretending to be Mr. Darcy. Throughout the rest of the day, anytime she started to get depressed he would vanish, only to reappear in a new crazy outfit. He went from Mr. Darcy to an ancient Egyptian, to a Roman soldier, to a 70’s glam rocker, and so on. She appreciated his efforts more than she could ever say.
She introduced him to some of her favorite movies, and they would spend whole nights camped out on the couch, just chatting while watching television. They both enjoyed their time together, not even realizing how close they were becoming.
