For the Love of Lisa

by Callie Norse

  “With all these mysteries, has anyone really been hurt?” Steve asked.

  “Well, almost getting scalded wasn’t very pleasant…and getting raped downright hurt.”

  “What did you just say, Greg? Did you say you were raped?” Marta asked, in disbelief.

  “Oh sweetie, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. We do need to talk.”

  Steve quickly dismissed himself, “While you two talk, I will go up and take a look at the mansard stairs.” Greg took the keys from his pants pocket and handed them to Steve.

  Greg hugged Marta and led her to the parlor. She sat extremely close to Greg. He put his arm around her and began to tell her the whole story. Marta was amazed at what he had to say. He concluded by telling her he didn’t know what happened; although he was sure he was not asleep. This combined with the scalding water made him very uneasy, but he didn’t want Marta to know he was connecting the two.

  “No change upstairs. I locked the door when I left,” Steve said, as he handed Greg the keys.

  “So, what do you make of it all, Steve?” Greg asked, keeping Marta close.

  “I certainly don’t know what to make of it. This is the strangest thing I have ever encountered. It does appear to be on the side of hauntings.”

  This made a chill run through Marta, even though she herself had felt this to be the case. She and Greg both could find no other explanation.

  Steve sat for awhile, deep in thought. “Have you tried searching the Internet for anything like this?”

  Greg looked at Marta, then, back at Steve, “Yes, Marta and I both have searched the net. There are many sites on haunting. None mention anything of a red, sticky substance…none that we have found yet. We’ll continue searching.”

  “I plan to go to the library and see what I can find there,” Marta was still totally thrown by the rape Greg had just explained to her.

  “I guess there’s nothing more I can do here. I should get back to Lori. I left her wondering what was going on over here, since you didn’t give much of an explanation over the phone.”

  *****

  After Steve left, Greg and Marta sat quietly in the parlor. Each was deep in thought. Marta felt safe for now, while she was in Greg’s arms, where she most enjoyed being. It was still difficult for her to believe they had become so close, so soon after Lisa’s death. Each was grieving Lisa. Each needed someone. Since they were both grieving the same person, it seemed only natural that they spend time together. The time they spent with one another seemed to be drawing them closer and closer. It wasn’t just the time together; it was partially due to the strange occurrences in the house.

  Marta finally broke the silence. “I think we should return the portrait to the mansard. It’s also a mystery of this house. It no longer seems beautiful to me. It needs to be removed from the living quarters, if not from this house.”

  “When do you suggest we do this?”

  “No better time than right now.”

  “How do you propose we get beyond the beloved red substance?”

  “We walk right through it! That stuff isn’t real—it’s fake. I don’t pretend to understand how it gets here. It’s not blood, or it wouldn’t have disappeared by itself that time. It’s obviously meant to scare us, and I’m not going to let it scare me any longer. This is a beautiful home that should be enjoyed.”

  “Then, why are you so scared of the portrait?” Greg grinned.

  “Well… well… I’m not scared of it! I just don’t like it anymore. It doesn’t compliment the guest room. That should be a happy room for guests, not a room that sheds tears!”

  Her comments amused Greg, as he knew that painting spooked her. “Okay, if you insist, we will go upstairs and walk right through that nice red stuff!”

  Greg unlocked the mansard door. Marta stood behind him, trembling, pretending not to be afraid. Neither noticed the familiar stench as Greg opened the door. Marta peeked around him. Much to her surprise she saw no red substance.

  “Oh, my God, how in the world!” Greg exclaimed.

  “Yes, how in the world did it leave so fast? Steve was just up here and said nothing had changed—the red stuff was still here. See, I told you the stuff was fake, and that it was nothing to get all scared about!” Marta pretended to never have been afraid.

  “Let’s get the portrait and take it upstairs, while we have the all clear here,” Greg suggested.

  Marta suddenly became brave and ran into the guest room, quickly grabbed the portrait off the wall, and ran back and handed it to Greg.

  “This old picture looks like there were never any tears shed. It’s a shame to have to put her back in storage.” Even with all the spookiness, Greg was enjoying teasing Marta.

  “Greg, she’s got to go! Get moving upward. I’ll be right behind you.” Marta really was in a hurry to dispose of this lovely lady. Greg stuffed it in a box and they were back downstairs in a flash. Greg was ready to walk down the hall to the parlor, when Marta spoke up. “Let’s go out to the carriage house and check on the red stuff out there.”

  “Marta, haven’t you had enough for one day? I want to forget all this and sit and enjoy each other.”

  “We can do that later,” Marta insisted.

  This time it was Greg trembling, as they neared the carriage house. After all, he was the one who first discovered the red, sticky substance. Being alone had made it all the spookier. Memories of that night, not so long ago, were still quite vivid. It had scared the shit out of him. Nevertheless, he had let Marta talk him into coming back out to check it. He lifted the latch and slowly opened the door to find the red stuff was totally gone. The floor was clean.

  Seven

  “There ain’t nothing wrong with this shower, Mr. Greg. I’ve checked it from top to bottom. It’s as fit as a fiddle.” Hank turned and looked at Greg, wondering why he even called him.

  “Okay, Hank. I just wanted to make sure. I didn’t want anyone getting burned.”

  “Ain’t nobody gonna get burned in this shower, unless they turn the knob to all hot. Want me to turn the water temp down a bit, Mr. Greg?”

  “That might not be a bad idea.” Greg told him where to find the water heater. He was back upstairs in a few short minutes. Greg paid him, and he was on his way. Greg really didn’t know what to think. Maybe Hank wasn’t the best man for something like this. He wasn’t a licensed plumber—a jack-of-all-trades was more like it.

  Greg had promised Maggie they would get the Christmas tree today. It had always been a fun family day to go to a nearby tree forest and cut their own. This year wouldn’t be the same without Lisa. She had always especially loved this day. Greg had thought of asking Marta to go along. He had decided it should be a day for he and Maggie alone, as they were now the family. Marta would come to the house later and help decorate the tree, which would be placed in the grand drawing room. This room was the most appropriate room for a large tree, as the ceilings were thirteen feet high. He and Lisa had loved the beautiful trees they had cut in previous years, although they had wished they could be larger. They had dreamed of the time when they would have a home large enough for a huge blue spruce.

  Lisa had always insisted they look at each and every tree, before coming back to the original find. By this time, Greg was ready to cut any one she chose. In earlier years, they pulled Maggie on a sled, as the tree farm was quite large. Now, she had more energy than Greg.

  As they pulled into the tree farm, Maggie hopped out of the Tahoe before Greg could get his seat belt off. She was all smiles and full of giggles. As they walked the tree farm, they kept their eyes open for that perfect tree. Maggie saw many trees, which she thought was that special one. Greg nicely convinced her that special tree was still out there. Maggie’s special tree could be scraggly or totally bare on one side. To her, they all looked great. After they had covered almost the entire forest, they came upon that special one. And yes, it was close to their starting point. It was a beautiful blue spruce, somewhat taller than thirteen
feet. Greg knew Lisa would be pleased with their choice. As usual, they would need to cut some off. They always used the extra greens for decorating the house. Greg told Maggie to stand back while he cut it down. Just as it was ready to fall, Maggie stepped closer to look at a pinecone inside the tree. Greg looked up to see she had stepped into the path of the falling tree. He yelled for her to get back. Just then, he saw a golden glow appear behind her. At that very moment, it looked as if she had been grabbed from behind and pulled out of the way. The tree crashed to the ground in the very spot where Maggie had been standing. She appeared dazed.

  “Maggie, honey, are you okay?” Greg asked, as he rushed to her.

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m fine.” She looked behind her, scanning the tree forest, as if looking for something. “Daddy, somebody grabbed me. They pulled me back. Who was it, Daddy?”

  “Maybe it was your guardian angel. Suppose?”

  “Really, do you think so? Are there really guardian angels?”

  “I believe so, sweetheart. I have always heard they protect us.” Greg was anxious to tell Marta about this.

  A young man, who worked for the tree farm, pulled the tree to the parking area with a garden tractor and loaded it onto the wagon Greg had attached to the Tahoe.

  Greg thought about the angel incident all the way home. Could it have been Lisa? He felt Lisa had been there with them, just as she was probably with them many times since her death.

  A light snow was beginning to fall as they entered the driveway. “It’s the perfect touch for the spirit of Christmas, isn’t it sweetheart? Mommy would have loved this.”

  “Yes, she will, Daddy.”

  Greg untied the tree and took it up onto the side porch, where he already had the tree stand waiting. He had known this tree would need a sturdier stand than the one they had always used. This one would definitely require the homemade stand.

  Before long, Greg had the tree cut to length and in the stand, with many greens leftover to use for decorating. Maggie had watched with much enthusiasm and chatter. Her enthusiasm easily rubbed off onto Greg. She was such a bubbly, adorable child. Greg explained to her they must carry it around to the front door, instead of dragging it through the whole house. He grabbed the tree by the stand and Maggie quickly latched onto the top of the tree, happily feeling she was a big help, as she sang “Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree, of all the trees most lovely.” She would repeat the same line, hum a few bars, and repeat what she had just sung. She obviously didn’t know the rest of the words. Just as they had the tree in place in the grand drawing room, the doorbell rang at the back of the house. Greg hurried to the door. There stood Marta weighted down with many packages.

  “What in the heck do you have there?” he asked as he took the packages from her.

  “Ornaments for that blue spruce, what else? Oops, you did get a blue spruce didn’t you?”

  “Of course, we all knew that was what Lisa had dreamed of for this year,” Greg replied.

  They found Maggie still in the grand drawing room, admiring the tree. “Isn’t it beautiful, Marta?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s perfect!” Marta began opening the packages and showing Maggie the new ornaments. She oohed and aahed at each one.

  “Leave it to you to think of this, Marta. This tree is far too large for the few ornaments we have.”

  “Greg, last year when Lisa and I were shopping we looked at ornaments just like these. Lisa was dreaming of the day she would buy these for the perfect blue spruce.” Greg smiled affectionately at Marta, for he should have known she would know exactly what Lisa would have wanted.

  Greg strung the lights. Yes, Marta had also bought more lights. She had remembered exactly the type of lights Greg and Lisa had on the tree the year before. Maggie waited impatiently for him to finish stringing the lights so she could hang the ornaments. Lisa had taught her not to clump too many of the same kind together. Many of the old ornaments had special meaning. They brought back memories of previous Christmases. Baby’s first Christmas had always been there for Maggie, and the rocking horse, the crystal teddy bears, Rudolf, the Santa with his fat tummy, and many more. It was late by the time the tree was decorated.

  “Maggie, honey, time for bed.” Greg knew she would fight him, as she was still wound up from the adventures of the day.

  “Daddy, I am wide awake. There is something I need to do first.” She ran down the hall and disappeared into the parlor.

  Marta knew she was again going to the sewing room. “Is she still spending as much time in there as she was?”

  “Oh, yes. Nothing has changed. I keep thinking she will eventually spend less and less time in there. I tell myself to be happy she isn’t sad and crying all the time with Lisa gone. Then I wonder if this is healthy. I have an idea that I hope will help. You know how she loves little Tinker Bell.”

  “Oh, yes! She definitely has a bond with that little pup,” Marta agreed.

  “Lori tells me the lady that owns the kennel, where she got Tinker Bell, has a litter of Yorkshire terriers, soon to be ready for adoption. Lori and I were discussing this Maggie situation, her obsession with the sewing room and the rocking chair. We wonder if it would help if she had a puppy of her own.”

  “You know, Greg, I think this could be the answer for Maggie.”

  “I was thinking of surprising her with the puppy for Christmas.”

  Greg drew Marta close and kissed her. Looking into her eyes he said, “Hi, sweetie. I have missed you.” She smiled back, as if to say she had missed him, too.

  “Want to spend the night? You can sleep upstairs with me. We must get up earlier than Maggie, though. That shouldn’t be a problem, as she is such a sleepy head.”

  “My bag is in the car. I will be right back.”

  “You little devil you! You planned to stay all along!”

  “Only if you asked!” she laughed.

  “I’ll get it for you. It’s getting dark. I don’t like to be out there in the dark myself. Not with all this weird stuff going on around here. You stay here. I’ll take the boxes to the back hall storage and then grab your bag on the way back.”

  “It’s in the back seat,” Marta yelled as he was half way down the hall.

  When Greg neared the kitchen he saw a streak of light. It seemed to come from nowhere and disappear into nowhere, about as quickly as it had come. “I don’t know about this house,” he thought to himself, “babies crying in the night, the red substance that seems to come and go, the uncontrollable hot water, crying portraits, streaks of light—what next?” He was seriously considering selling Lisa’s dream—their dream.

  As Marta waited near the Christmas tree, she wondered which was worse—the creepy darkness outside, or all the mysterious happenings inside.

  “Brrr, winter is definitely setting in. Is this the bag?” Greg asked, as he brushed the snow off his shirtsleeves and handed Marta a red floral bag.

  “None other.”

  “I guess I’d better go get Maggie. It’s past her bedtime,” Greg said.

  Marta followed him to the sewing room. They stood in the doorway and watched, as she quietly sang a little tune while she rocked. Neither was sure what the tune was, as it was a new one to them. Her little eyelids kept closing. Each time they closed, she stopped singing. They would open again and a few more words would come out, until her eyes again closed and the singing would stop, as before. Greg picked her up and carried her upstairs. Marta dropped her bag at the master bedroom door and followed Greg into Maggie’s room. She helped her get into a little nightgown, which Lisa had made for her a few weeks before her death. Greg pulled the covers up, and they both kissed her good night. Marta paused at the door to look back at Maggie. “She is so sweet, so precious,” she whispered to Greg.

  *****

  It had been awhile since Greg and Marta had been alone. He wanted her, but he was still fighting his desires. “How about some eggnog?”

  “Sure, sounds good to me,” Marta had thought he would whi
sk her off to the bedroom as soon as Maggie was asleep. Instead, he was leading her to the kitchen.

  He opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of eggnog, poured two glasses, and sat them on the table. “Mart, how do you feel about what is happening between us now that you have had a chance to think it over for awhile?”

  “Maybe I should ask you that? How do you feel about it?”

  “Not fair, I asked you first.”

  “Greg, it’s no secret how I have felt about you for a long time. This makes it a little different for me. Of course, I feel a little like I’m taking over what is Lisa’s, but she’s gone, and we can never bring her back. And there is her wish…her letter to you. I think at this point we should let happen whatever happens and go from there.”

  “Mart, sweetie, I was hoping you would feel this way. What has happened between us has seemed so good. I’m not prepared to go backward. If it wasn’t Lisa’s wish, I would do just that, though. Since it’s her choice, I want to be with you and let happen whatever will.” He got up from the table and put his arms around her, “Sweetie, I have missed you. I just needed some time to think this through, and, also, to give you time to think.”

  They held each other closely. Greg pressed his body so close she could feel his hard flesh against her. She picked up the empty eggnog glasses and placed them in the sink. He came up behind her, brushing his thickened flesh against her as she stood at the sink. Since she already had desires, this instantly lit a fire within her. She arched her back to meet him. He slowly lowered her slacks, teasing, testing her, and then slid her panties down her shapely thighs. He reached under, placing his hand on her love nest, feeling her wetness. His fingers lingered and desires rose higher. Her heart began beating faster with the sound of his zipper. As he parted her and his flesh entered, her breathing intensified…she was now all his. The next minutes were unbelievably wild, taking them to their peak quite rapidly. When they came down, he spun her around to hold her, to kiss her, to welcome her back into his arms and into his life. “Sweetie, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry. I know it must have seemed animal like. You mean much more to me than that.