2
“Are they here yet?” Gary asked as he wheeled himself into the living room.
“Not yet,” Melanie said. She was standing near the bay window, her slender hands resting on the back of an antique chair. Gary came up beside her.
“Are you still worried?” he asked.
“No, I’ve gotten used to the idea of house guests,” Melanie said.
“They’ll turn out fine,” Gary insisted. “You’ll see.”
“From the looks of that rain,” Melanie said, “they may not make it here today.”
But just then, through the heavy downpour, they heard the sound of an engine. A few minutes later, a green Volvo came over the top of the hill and stopped in the driveway. Melanie and Gary watched as Derek Miller got out. He was wearing a raincoat with an upturned collar, which hid his face. He opened his daughter’s door, and the two shared an umbrella up to the porch.
Derek was shaking the rain from his umbrella when Melanie opened the door. He looked up and smiled.
“I’m Derek Miller,” he said.
“I know,” Melanie answered. “Come in out of that rain, will you?”
Derek immediately introduced his daughter, then bent down to shake Gary’s hand. Doctor Norton had told him about his patient, and Derek was impressed by the firmness of Gary’s grip. Gary, in turn, was scrutinizing his therapist. After Derek removed his coat, Gary saw he was a well-built man of about thirty-five. The muscle lines under his cardigan told Gary he was a man who cared as much for his own body as those of his patients.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Melanie asked. “Or hot chocolate?”
“Not for me,” Derek said. “Thanks.”
Alicen declined with a shake of her head. Melanie folded their coats over her arm, thinking how handsome Derek was with his boyish features and dark, wavy hair. Unfortunately, none of his good looks had been passed on to his daughter. Alicen was the sorriest-looking child Melanie had ever seen, with a chubby body and stringy black hair. Melanie noticed she was staring at the mirror backplate of an elaborate wall lamp that hung in the hallway.
“That’s called a girandole,” she said. “It’s an eighteenth century antique. Isn’t it lovely?”
Alicen nodded but said nothing. Gary led the group into the living room and indicated seats for everyone. Derek sat on the overstuffed burgundy-colored couch. Alicen kept her distance, choosing a huge slat-back rocking chair near the fireplace.
“You collect antiques, Mrs. VanBuren?” Derek asked.
“Oh, no,” Melanie said. “Gary does. He decorated this entire house.”
“Some of the furniture came with it,” Gary said. “That table there, for instance. It was built around 1795, the same year as this house.”
Abruptly Gary changed the subject. “How was your trip?”
“Not bad,” Derek said. “It’s only two hours from Englewood.”
He stood up and went to the fireplace, looking at the portraits that hung over it. There was one of a blond boy and another depicting two little girls looking out a window.
“Dr. Norton said you had three children?” he asked.
“Kyle, Gina, and Nancy,” Gary said, pointing to each in turn. “They’re in school right now.”
“Gina’s your age,” Melanie said to Alicen.
The little girl mumbled, “I know.”
“I guess that’s one reason you let me bring Alicen,” Derek said. He picked up a pewter vase and fingered its smooth rim. “Most people think she’d be in the way, even before they meet her.”
“But you seem like a well-behaved girl, Alicen,” Melanie said, smiling at her. Alicen had left her rocking chair and was now sitting on the window seat, watching the rain pummel the azaleas. She said nothing.
“She’s a teen-ager, though,” Derek said, “and that bothers people. They think she’d bring drugs into their houses or something. It’s idiotic. I prefer private work, but it’s impossible to get it with a kid in tow. I’ve been stuck in a clinic for three years.”
“We like children,” Melanie said, thinking it was very rude of Derek to speak that way in front of his daughter.
“Well, your call was a godsend, Mr. VanBuren,” Derek said, ignoring the glare in Melanie’s eyes.
“It’s Gary,” was the reply, “Mr. VanBuren is for clients and children. I’m hoping we’ll be friends.”
“After a few days of therapy with me,” Derek said, laughing, “you may not want to be friends.”
Alicen suddenly spoke up, in a clear voice that surprised Melanie.
“Who lives in that house down the road?” she asked, still staring out the window.
“It’s empty,” Melanie said. “The owner—the owner died last year.”
As if to indicate she didn’t wish to discuss it, Melanie stood up abruptly. “Well! How about letting me show you your rooms?”
“Sounds good,” Derek said.
Gary had rigged a lift along the stairs so that he could get up and down them easily, and was quite adept at sliding himself into it Melanie started to push the wheelchair up, as she usually did, but Derek took the handles from her.
“Let me do that,” he said, putting his suitcases on the seat.
“I’ve been doing it for months,” Melanie said. “I’m not a weakling.”
Derek agreed, but still held fast to the chair. They ascended the stairs slowly, so that Gary could keep up with them. As they walked down the hall, Derek stopped to look at the paintings that lined the walls. He saw Melanie’s name on a few of them and complimented her. When he saw that the others depicted naval scenes, he asked if they had an interest in that field.
Melanie and Gary exchanged glances, and after a moment’s hesitation, Gary said, “The original owner of this house was a captain in the eighteenth-century British navy. Someday I’ll tell you about him.”
When they came to the last door in the hall, Melanie opened it and led Derek inside. The room was sparsely furnished with only a bed and dresser.
“We can bring other pieces down from the attic,” Melanie said. “I thought it would be best to ask what you needed, first.”
This is just fine,” Derek answered.
“Now, Alicen,” Melanie said, “come across the hall and see your room.”
Thinking the original furnishings had been too plain for a young girl, Melanie had added pretty yellow curtains and a white desk. There was a big bouquet of flowers on the window seat. Alicen looked around, then sat down on the bed, which was covered with a yellow and white quilt.
“Well, how do you like it, Alicen?” Melanie asked.
“It’s nice,” Alicen said in a soft tone.
Derek shook his head in a gesture of eternal patience, then left the room. Out in the hall he turned to Melanie and said, “You’ll have to forgive my daughter’s lack of enthusiasm. She’s been withdrawn since my wife died. It’s been six years, but . . .”
“Don’t make excuses,” Melanie said. “I promise, Alicen will get along just fine here. My children are very friendly.”
Indeed, Gina lost no time in making Alicen feel at home. After dinner, she showed the girl her collection of records and stuffed animals. They sat on Gina’s bed in their robes, Gina’s frilly quilted one a sharp contrast to Alicen’s flannel robe.
“Do you like Billy Joel?” Gina asked.
“I—I don’t know any boys yet,” Alicen faltered.
“I mean Billy Joel the singer!” Gina cried. Seeing the confused look on Alicen’s face, she said, “Never mind. I’ll play some of his records for you later. Don’t you listen to the radio?”
“I like to read,” Alicen replied. Thinking Gina might ridicule her for being a bookworm, she climbed from the bed and busied herself with a stuffed kangaroo.
“We have lots of books,” Gina said, coming up next to her. “Come on downstairs and I’ll show you our library.”
“You have a library?” Alicen asked incredulously as she followed Gina from the room.
&n
bsp; “Uh-huh,” Gina answered. “It’s got hundreds of books, but we kids have our own special shelf.”
Alicen’s brown eyes became very round when she and Gina entered the room. Arched bookshelves decorated with carved cherubs’ heads lined three of the walls, while a fourth held built-in stands for maps and atlases.
“It’s beautiful,” Alicen whispered.
“This is our shelf,” Gina said. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled a book down. It was so huge that she had to use both hands to carry it to the brown Chesterfield sofa. She laid it down on the long table before her, and Alicen saw the title: Collected Works of Charles Dickens.
“Grandpa said the pictures were painted by hand,” Gina said. “See the date? 1850!”
“It’s just beautiful,” Alicen said again.
“My favorite story is A Christmas Carol,” Gina said. “See this picture of Scrooge? There’s this guy named Mr. Percy at school who looks Just like him. And he’s just as mean.”
“Will I get him?” Alicen asked, worried.
“I hope not,” Gina said. “You’ll probably be in my class. We live together, don’t we?”
“Are the kids in your class nice?”
“Real nice,” Gina said. “How come you look so worried?”
“I hate school,” Alicen said. “All the teachers I’ve ever had have been mean to me.”
“My teacher is nice,” Gina said. “So stop worrying.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Melanie poked her head in and said, “Do you know it’s almost eleven? Come on up to bed.”
“Let me put this book away first,” Gina said.
“Well, Alicen,” Melanie said, “how do you like our fancy library?”
“Oh, I love it,” Alicen said, with more enthusiasm than Melanie had witnessed all day.
“You’re welcome to use it any time you like,” Melanie said. “If you don’t find what you want, I can drive you to the library in town.”
“Thanks,” Alicen said.
Melanie leaned against the door as the two girls filed out of the room. She hadn’t been near the public library since—well, since Gary’s accident. Libraries depressed her. They reminded her of a librarian friend she’d had. But that friend had died last year, violently. And though it wasn’t her fault that Janice was dead, she still felt guilt twisting at her stomach whenever she thought of her. Why? Why so much guilt?
Stop that, Melaine told herself. It’s the past. It’s over!
With memories of Janice still heavy on her mind, she went to Alicen’s room. The girl was surprised to see her and jumped under the covers as if ashamed of the pretty gown that hung over her fat body.
“How do you like it here so far?” Melanie asked.
“It’s nice,” Alicen said softly.
“I’m glad you like it,” Melanie said, wanting to put her arms around the girl. But something in her manner held her back, and she simply said good night.
Alicen settled back against her pillow, all the while thinking how nice everything seemed to be. She hoped Gina would become her friend. Then, exhausted after a long day, she fell asleep immediately. Her dreams, of her mother, were sweet. Alicen was completely unaware of the woman standing over her, considering her as a pawn in a diabolical scheme.
3
Alicen’s fears about her first day at Saint Anne’s were completely justified. It began when she learned that she had been assigned to the dreaded Mr. Percy, who really did look like the Scrooge in Gina’s book. He had white hair and a pointy nose, and he seemed to always be scowling.
He had put her in the seat directly in front of his desk, wanting to keep an eye on his new student. Alicen sensed he was watching her, waiting for her to do something wrong. She looked around the room, lost and afraid among unfamiliar faces. Alicen began to chew her lower lip as she studied the pretty blond girl next to her.
“Eyes front Miss Miller,” Percy snapped. “Let me tell you, I don’t tolerate daydreamers in my classroom. Don’t let me catch you again, unless you want to spend your first day in the principal’s office.”
“Yes, sir,” Alicen said, feeling tears of humiliation burning in her eyes. She blinked them away.
She tried her best to concentrate that morning, although her mind wandered whenever Percy had his back to her for too long. She knew already that she hated him. Why did she have to be in his class? The principal had said Gina’s class was too full, but couldn’t they have made room for one more student? And worse than that, Gina’s lunch hour was later than hers. So, this first day, she was forced to eat alone.
As she sipped at a container of milk, she noticed a nice-looking boy with red hair approaching her. Not wanting to talk to him, she ducked her eyes and pretended to be busy with her sandwich. When she next looked up, he was sitting across the room.
The afternoon passed more quickly than the morning, since Percy was concentrating on literature. Alicen became caught up in a story, but she was still glad when the bell rang. Like a drill sergeant, Percy barked at them to get on two separate lines. Alicen was surprised to find the red-haired boy from the cafeteria standing next to her.
“Hey!” be hissed. Alicen ignored him, but the boy persisted. “Don’t let Percy get you down. No one else listens to him, either.”
Alicen managed a smile but didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, they were outside, and the two lines broke as children scattered across the schoolyard. The redhead was still with her.
“My name’s Jamie Hutchinson,” he said. Alicen noticed the braces on his teeth and felt a little less flawed herself.
“I’m Alicen Miller,” she said.
“Where do you live?” Jamie asked. “Did you just move to Belle Bay?”
“I came here yesterday,” Alicen told him. Then, surprised that she was suddenly talking so much, she added, “I live with Gina VanBuren. Do you know her?”
“Not really,” Jamie admitted. “I’ve heard of her, though.”
Alicen looked around uncomfortably. “There’s Gina now!” she cried. She left Jamie without saying goodbye.
“Nice meeting you,” Jamie called as he watched her run toward the bus.
Gina grabbed Alicen’s arm and took a quick glance at Jamie. “Who was that?” she asked. “He’s so cute!”
“His name is Jamie Hutchinson,” Alicen reported.
“Gee, you’ve got a boyfriend already!” Gina squealed.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alicen said, annoyed.
* * *
When they arrived home, they found Gary and Derek in one of the upstairs hallways, supervising a group of carpenters at work on Gary’s therapy room. The banging of hammers and buzzing of saws was deafening.
In the studio Melanie, in a blue smock, was busy at work on a new painting. A photograph of Belle Bay’s town square was pinned to a bulletin board beside her easel.
“Hi, mom!” Gina cried. “What’re you painting?”
“A picture of the town square,” Melanie said. “I hope to sell it to the mayor or some other local politician. Oh, guess what? I’m going to have another one-woman show. I’ll have to paint a lot of pictures of Long Island since it’s my home now.”
She promised the girls they could go with her to visit Montauk Point and Jones Beach and other local sights. Gina started enthusiastically to plan her summer vacation, talking of nothing else for the rest of the day. But all Alicen could think about was school and how much she dreaded going back.
When she went to bed that night, she whispered out loud, as if her mother were there to hear her, “You’d make it okay, wouldn’t you? I wish you’d come back to me, mommy! I need you!”
Tears filled her eyes, and she turned and stared out the window. The moon was bright and full Alicen gazed at it and tried to remember her mother. The memory of her mother’s beautiful, smiling face was still with her; Alicen had made it a point never to forget that face. She had heard adults at the funeral whispering that her mother had been horribly d
isfigured in the car accident, but she refused to believe they were talking about her. She stamped a picture of her mother in her mind that showed her always smiling, always willing to play with her little daughter. Not like her father.
Alicen’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a strange, high-pitched laughter. Terrified, she pulled her quilt over her head and held her breath. Was someone in the room, listening to the thumping of her heart? The laughter came again, and she realized it wasn’t in her room at all. It had come from the kitchen below, filtering through the grating in the floor.
Alicen was about to get up and tell her father, but she was afraid. This was his first private job in three years, and he’d warned her she had better not do anything to jeopardize it. Anything.
“And that means acting like a baby, the way you did at the Laines’ house,” her father had said.
Alicen had awakened in the middle of the night, crying out for her mother. Her screams had so frightened the Laine children that their parents decided she couldn’t stay with them any longer. Derek couldn’t afford to send her to a boarding school, so the two packed their bags together. Alicen knew it was her fault that her father had lost his job. So tonight, she pretended she didn’t hear the laughter. This time, she swore, she wouldn’t have nightmares.
Trembling, she put her fingers in her ears and blocked out the sound. She didn’t hear the click of Derek’s door across the hall. He had also heard the strange cries and was on his way downstairs to investigate. The long hallway that led to the stairs was pitch black, lit only by dim moonlight filtering through an amber stained-glass window at its end. Obviously the VanBurens were fast asleep, too far at the front of the house to have heard the noise. Derek, deciding he could handle the situation himself, groped his way down the dark staircase.
He stopped short when he heard the laughter again. Then he took a deep breath and burst into the dining room, switching on the overhead light. He scanned the room, taking in the table, chairs, and bay windows. The windows were locked tight. Everything seemed to be in order. Even the fireplace, black and yawning, gave no hint of hiding an intruder. Everything was so silent that Derek could hear a ringing in his ears.
Ghost House Revenge Page 2
