Cole maneuvered the car confidently into the drive and parked in the back. He helped them gather their purses and jackets, and then unlocked the door, holding it open for them. The house seemed emptier than ever without John. Cole excused himself and disappeared into the library while Noel and Claire went upstairs to bed. Noel’s eyes were still red-rimmed and her face was pale with fatigue. When she asked if she could stay with Claire, Claire gratefully agreed and helped her as she made a cot on the floor. Claire went down the hall slowly, her eyes gritty with exhaustion and pent up tears. It had been a long and dreadful day, and she prayed she would never have to repeat it.
Claire pulled on her shorts and tee shirt to sleep in, bundling her clothes into an untidy ball. She quickly finished cleaning up, bathing her face and hands and brushing out her hair while gazing blankly in the mirror. She looked years older. Her face was white, and her hair was pulled loosely back from her thin features, revealing fine lines that bracketed her mouth and eyes. She frowned at her reflection and pressed cool fingers to her temples. It was going to get better. It just had to.
She quickly pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, jumping when she brushed against another figure in the gloom.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you.” Cole looked even more tired than she.
“It’s alright. I was just heading for bed,” she murmured, acutely aware of her dishabille.
“Are you all right?”
She smiled solemnly. “We’re as good as can be expected. Thanks for asking.”
With that, she retreated down the hallway to her room, pausing at the doorway to watch him as he stood, head bent as though in prayer. She felt a sudden urge to go to him, to hold him for a moment and was shocked by these feelings. Shaking her head in confusion, she slipped in her room and closed the door quietly, resting her head on the panel for a moment. Behind her, she could hear the soft breaths of her best friend as she escaped into sleep. Claire doubted the same sleep would come to her.
Later that night as she huddled in bed, she thought she heard the sounds of wings against glass. With an almost unhealthy eagerness, she flew to the window and pulled wide the curtains. And it was there, the little mournful dove in a fluffy ball of feathers perched on invisible feet atop the railing. She silently pulled the doors wide, hoping ridiculously the bird would take the invitation to come in. Why? She couldn’t say why she felt that way. She just knew she wanted it, the presence of another soul in the room. But she didn’t want to disturb Noel who no doubt would be startled to see the animal in the room.
With an eerie understanding, the bird took to the wind, its wings emitting a shrill whistle as it moved in a speedy glide into the high-ceilinged space. It took a few turns in the room narrowly but effortlessly avoiding the furniture in its way and landing unerringly on the foot of the bed.
When Claire cuddled back in bed, she pulled the covers around her shoulders. She looked towards the cot on the floor, but Noel had not stirred. She looked toward the open door that led to the balcony, but didn’t move to close it. She didn’t want to close the door and trap the bird. But she hated to leave allow the night to seep into her room.
“I’m doing this for you, Leta,” Claire whispered. The name had snuck into her mind without thought, so she accepted it.
Upon hearing her words, the bird glided onto the bedcovers and hopped up to Claire, pausing to cuddle in the pool of blankets in her lap.
Claire lifted a slightly trembling hand and cupped it ever so gently over the creature’s back. Leta did not move, but stayed in the shelter of her hand. When Claire rested her head back against the headboard, the bird emitted a sad coo and settled still and warm.
The next day dawned dim and already filled with shadows. As before, the dove was gone like a ghost, and the doors were closed, latched, and smothered by the heavy curtains. Claire and Noel got up late and ate cereal in the kitchen, sitting at the counter. The house was quiet and empty, the only sign of life the soft clicking of the keyboard in the library. There would be no more work done in the house for the rest of the week, and the girls decided to skip classes for the day. Noel planned on taking a long tub bath and dying her hair bright red to make herself feel better. Claire wanted to look in the library for some reference books about the house. She needed to keep busy, and research was a soothing way of distracting her mind. She didn’t know if any books existed that would tell about the history of the house or the family that had built it, but she speculated if something did, it would be in the library. She also was curious to see what other books might be there. Anything about the history of the Bluegrass area or the local flavor. She pondered the idea that there may be less factual tomes among the books in the library, maybe even some juicy ghost stories about historical sites in Louisville, Shelbyville, or the outlying counties. But was that healthy for her to read? With John’s accident on her mind, she wasn’t sure what her reasoning was for wanting to find that kind of information. To make her feel better? To make her feel there was a real reason for her to be afraid?
She went to the doorway and knocked lightly on the doorframe. Cole was sitting at his desk; several binders open in front of him. He glanced up when she knocked and waved her in.
“Can I help you with something?”
“I just wanted to look at some of the books. Is that all right or will I be in the way?”
“No, it’s fine. Let me know if I can help you find something. I’ve been through most of these myself.”
She nodded and went to the shelf. The books were loosely arranged according to sections with fiction in one area, biographies in another, plays and poetry on the highest shelves, and reference and history books on the far wall. Claire looked at the array of titles including a set of encyclopedias that was over 40 years old. She quickly became absorbed in her search, stopping to pick out several titles with the promise of historical information. She sat on the floor; her legs crossed beneath her and books spread out around her. When she found a pertinent chapter or reference, she marked with a sticky note and moved on to the next book. She decided to take the best ones up to her room to read at her leisure later.
She didn’t even hear as Cole approached and squatted down next to her. She looked up quickly, blinking as he looked over her shoulder at the book.
“Interested in history all of the sudden?”
“No, just looking for some information.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t think so,” she said evasively.
“Did you see this one?” He handed her a small volume; its cover worn at the corners. When she flipped it open she saw the title was just an address. 110 Talitha Heights.
“Is it about this place?” she asked.
“It is supposed to be a history of my family, but it does cover some of the construction of the original house. I can’t say it’s the best book ever written, or the most truthful, but it does have some interesting information. Is that what you were looking for?”
She felt embarrassed but nodded. “I just was curious about the previous owners. Do you mind if I borrow it for a little while?”
“Of course not. I’ve read most of these myself.”
She smiled her thanks and put the slender book on top of her stack. Then she climbed to her feet, gathered her books, and slipped out the door, closing it behind her.
Chapter Ten
The house was empty for once, and the silence was almost deafening. Claire prowled nervously around the well-lit kitchen, her hair hanging loose around her face. She was dressed in her usual jeans with a well-worn sweater, her face pale with little makeup to add color. She wore small gold studs in her ears and her usual crucifix around her neck, which she caressed when she was nervous. Like now. She was expecting Noel to return any minute, and she had to admit she was anxious for her friend to return. The evening was falling, and Noel had gone out this afternoon with Ben to look at some property he was thinking of buying. He had plans to eventually build a hou
se, and was always looking for the next real estate deal. But time was flying. Surely, she would return soon before the steadily setting sun made it too difficult to see.
Shaking herself, she sat at the table a moment, resting her fingers on the cold wooden surface. She knew she could go upstairs and get the book to read. She had left it sitting on the table, a tempting reminder of what she could be doing instead of homework when her studies got too hectic. But she didn't move, letting her mind wonder. She glanced at the closed door, feeling slightly abandoned. She had noticed the increased frequency Noel and Ben were together. Neither seemed as interested in her company as they had once been, and Claire was happy for them. The night before, Noel had visited Claire in her room for a little girl talk. Both had pointedly avoided the topic of the house or any of the inhabitants, although both agreed they were going to miss John. After dabbing tears, they had retrieved chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen, and began discussing their usual topics of school, romance, and friendships. Although Noel had admitted Ben hadn't “made his move” as she termed it, she was confident it was just a matter of time.
Claire smiled to herself but quickly sobered. She didn't like to be alone here, not anymore. Since John's death, she felt as though a line had been broken. Something was going on in this house. Something was wrong here. She knew it wasn’t just in her mind either. There were too many times when someone else had experienced a disturbance, a vision, an unexplainable happening. Whatever had held the house in its control for all this time seemed to be growing stronger. She knew she wasn’t the only one who knew it either. And although she was not superstitious, it was Halloween, and she had seen enough scary movies to be a little wary of that particular date.
She tugged the crucifix from under her sweater again and straightened the chain. She had worn it for years, since her mother had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday. It had always been meaningful for her, but now it seemed vital to her sanity and her spirit, and she wore it constantly, even while she bathed and went to bed.
The lock turned on the side door and Claire heard the welcome sound of footsteps, real and solid, coming through the short hall.
"Oh, I didn't realize anyone was here." Cole looked uncomfortable and stiff, with lines of fatigue tracing grooves around his eyes and mouth. He was dressed in one of his many well-tailored suits, a dark charcoal ensemble with a burgundy tie and soft leather shoes. His hair had been recently trimmed but still fell on his forehead, accentuating his pallor. Claire felt an odd and surprising urge to reach out and touch the soft waves of his hair and stuffed her hands into her pockets. That had certainly come from nowhere.
"Noel and Ben will be back in a little while. Some of our friends are coming over to stay the evening. We checked with Charles..."
He smiled without humor. "This place is supposed to be a hotel one day. I don't think a couple extra people will matter much. By the way, the bathroom adjoining Noel's room is working now. Yours should be soon."
"Great, thanks." She paused, ill at ease. Still there was something very vulnerable about him. Something she found engaging that made her want to continue the discussion when all her instincts told her to turn and run. "We're having pizza tonight. You're welcome to join us."
He nodded and glanced at his watch. "Maybe. Thanks for asking." He stood very still for a moment as though reluctant to leave, and she found herself studying him more closely.
“Are you feeling alright? I know all this has got to be wearing on you. Trying to run a business while all of this has happened at the house...” She swallowed suddenly thinking of John once again.
“Yes, well, the job has been a little more difficult than I anticipated, but I never figured it would be easy. Nothing worth your lifeblood ever is. And this project has definitely taken its pound of flesh.” He turned, his eyes seeming to catch memories. “And John’s death.” He seemed like he couldn’t speak of it anymore, and Claire dropped her eyes.
She was silent for a moment, considering his words. A pound of flesh, an old-fashioned sentiment, but seeing him standing there, it was also suitable. She couldn’t help feeling a well of sympathy for this man. He seemed so alone. He never spoke of family, or friends for that matter, and existed only for his business. What a sad way to live one’s life.
“So, your classes, they are going well?” he asked politely as though realizing there was a ceremony for conversation, a script that must be followed.
“Yes. Yes, they’re going fine. I’ll be glad when I’m done.”
He nodded. “I finished my degree several years ago, but I remember the challenge.”
She felt a mix of unease and interest. She wanted to ask him more. Where had he gone to college? What had he majored in? What was his life like when he wasn’t ensconced in the family estate? For that matter, how old was he? A chime interrupted her thoughts, and she watched him pull his cell phone from his pocket. He glanced at the display.
“I have to get this,” he said quickly.
“Sure,” she nodded, and turned away as he slipped from the room. She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. But almost immediately her eyes went to the darkening windows. No trick-or-treaters here, she thought grimly.
After he had left, she retreated to her room to wait. She felt safer under the watchful eye of the woman in the portrait than downstairs in the main part of the house. She carefully parted the curtains and looked out into the dimming night. She didn’t see the bird, her mystery dove, but the other night birds were active and she could hear plainly the cry of the crows against the black branches of the overhanging trees. Finally, she pulled the curtains closed and gave up on her avian friend. Maybe later. She glanced around the room, and ignoring the book about the house, she instead chose the mystery novel she had started to read. She tried to become involved in the plot, but found her mind wandering far too often.
When her friends arrived, they had several pizzas with beer and soft drinks. They had picked out a few classic horror films to celebrate the holiday. Claire wasn't sure she was in the mood to be scared, and said so, but Ben assured her all the films were well chosen.
She had to laugh when she read the titles: Bride of Frankenstein, Swamp Thing, and Godzilla.
"Let's eat. I'm starving,” Noel said, yanking open cardboard boxes. The steamy tomato, garlic, and spice smell permeated the kitchen as they all started to divvy out pieces.
Amy was in a rare mood because her fiancé, Bill, was off for the weekend and able to come home for a few days. She showed him into the kitchen with a flourish and busied herself filling his plate. He smiled ruefully and let her wait on him.
"I may as well enjoy this while it lasts. When we're married I doubt I'll get this much tender loving care."
She laughed at him and handed him his plate.
"You're right about that. I'll expect to be waited on; clean my car, take out the garbage, paint my house."
Claire laughed and watched them, feeling a tug of envy. They knew each other so well they often finished one another's sentences. They had dated for so many years, they seemed married already.
"Claire, are you going to eat?" Noel asked pushing a plate in her direction. Claire had recently lost weight and although she also gained muscle, her appetite had been poor since John's death. At times, she just didn't feel like eating and found her stomach in nervous knots. She didn't want to admit her suspicions, even to herself, much less to Noel. It preyed on her mind often, the image of John's fall to the cold tile floor. Had he fallen or was he pushed? And pushed by what? Or whom? And if it was murder, was it committed by the spirits that held Talitha in their power? Or some human hands? She wanted to deny it. She told herself she didn’t believe in ghosts or things that go bump in the night. But yet, there had been that time. That horrible time when she had seen, no, she corrected herself, she had thought she had seen something. She shook her head briskly. The fact remained that something had happened to John, and there had been plenty of witnesses who claimed no h
uman hand had moved him away from the safety of the railing.
Noel called her name one more time, and she took two pieces of pizza and grabbed a soft drink, following the rest of the group into the living room. It was dimly lit, already prepared for the movie to start. Despite the recent renovation, Claire still felt uneasy in the room at times. The space had once been a roofed back porch, which was framed in during the 1940's. The more recent renovation had been completed at the same time as the office; the floor covered in Berber carpeting and the walls painted a soothing taupe. The furnishings were modern sectional pieces, bought for comfort more than appearance. The television was used; an old set brought in by one of the construction workers who wanted to watch the news during his lunch hour. The DVD player was another of the workers’ contributions. In the dim light, the sickly blue glow flickered against the pale walls.
Bill entered first and led Amy to one couch, and they collapsed against the thick padding, leaning back against the overstuffed arms. Noel and Ben followed and sat on the floor, scooted up close to the coffee table where they placed their dinner and soft drinks. Claire took one of the cushioned chairs, placing her plate on the table next to her and cradled her chilled drink in her hands.
Noel got up after a moment and held up the movies. A lively vote followed, and they settled on "Bride of Frankenstein". The room quieted as the movie began, and they finished their dinner. Claire found herself again distracted, her eyes skimming over the faces around her and worrying which of them might be next. She looked at her friends, all dear and special to her in different ways, and felt a cold chill ripple down her back. No, she thought angrily. She couldn’t think that way! It was crazy, and she would not be pulled into that insane path. She would not allow that. She forced herself to ease her grip on her soft drink can and take a deep breath. Relax, she reminded herself.
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