Ghosts from the Past

by Bonnie Elizabeth

  The chemical lavender smell that permeated the room made my nose itch and I sneezed. The pipes had just quieted down and it sounded too loud in the room that was, for once, perhaps the first time, silent. Was I having a vision? But the room stayed the same and nothing jumped out at me. I pulled the sheets up over my head and tried to sleep again.

  I tossed and turned and perhaps dozed a few times but every time I started to drop off, the house gave a particularly loud settling groan or the pipes decided to bang. Once, the radiator even decided to hiss and spit, as if it were still turned on. I was going to have to talk to Jimmy or Maggie about it when the weekend was over. If I decided to remain, I doubted it would be comfortable to have the thing on in the middle of summer.

  I finally got up and went down to find that Pat and Bob were already in the kitchen. It was sausage this morning, if my nose was correct. They had oatmeal to go with it and the regular assortment of cold items. I got my coffee and my breakfast and settled in at the same place I always sat.

  This morning I was alone. I was still alone when I finished my coffee. I considered going in and talking to Pat and Bob but decided against it. I went upstairs, fished out my purse, grabbed my phone and went back down to head into Sydney.

  As I left the property behind I felt my shoulder tension ease. I breathed more deeply, despite the fact that my car continued to smell of old French fries. I opened the windows, letting in the breeze and the smell of the sea. The radio competed with the swoosh of cars traveling along the highway as I got closer to Sydney.

  But the sounds were normal. They were traffic sounds, rhythmic and comforting.

  When I finally reached the town, I was enchanted with the place. The homes were small and quaint, painted in a multitude of colors. I drove around for a few minutes just looking. I drove by the Port, without really knowing what it was as there were no ships at dock until I noticed the large fiddle.

  I found a place to park, rather easily, as it was still early, and I walked down to the waterfront to look at the fiddle more closely. The air was crisp but not cold. There was a slight breeze that was a tiny bit chill, but the sun was bright which helped keep me warm. After looking at the fiddle, largely so I could say I’d seen it, I walked down the walkway looking out at the water, listening to the call of the gulls and generally feeling relaxed.

  If someone had asked me what I expected of my work, I would have said days like this, where I could walk along the shore and breathe deeply of fresh air. I turned back and started walking up the hillside that ran down towards the port. It wasn’t a steep climb and there were plenty of old buildings to look at. Most had railings on the upper floor and were graceful looking places.

  I saw a sign outside one particularly old building that said it held tours but the posted opening time was half an hour away. I considered coming back if my research didn’t take up the whole afternoon.

  I found a Tim Hortons and decided that while in Canada, I would do as the Canadians, and went inside for a coffee. The smell alone made my mouth tingle with anticipation. While it wasn’t crowded, there were a fair number of people, several of them obviously tourists with hats that talked about the Alexander Graham Bell House and T-shirts decorated with the words Peggy’s Cove, a small hamlet down on the southern coast of Nova Scotia.

  The conversation closest to me was about whether a sister would like it if they went back and got the lobster magnet or if something better might turn up that was equally cheap. Another woman was talking on her cell phone, telling someone she’d be by that afternoon with groceries. Everything was normal and ordinary and I was certain there were no ghosts. Not there.

  I settled at a table and drank my coffee. It was too early to call Tessie on a Saturday so I just sat and enjoyed the street view. I enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t listening for something out of the ordinary or waiting for the power to go out or wondering if I was going to walk into a vision of the past.

  I was just there. In a Tim Hortons. Drinking coffee and listening to normal people talking.

  By the time I had finished, I was almost resentful of the task I’d offered to do for Bethany while I was in town. I hoped I didn’t run into Jonathan at the library if I went in and did research. While I would say I liked him, I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to forget Schilling Manor.

  In fact, if someone had asked me right then if I ever wanted to see the place again, I would have said no. But my job was there. While I had a full year of sabbatical, it wasn’t like I was getting paid for the time off and I had to put food on the table. This job paid well. It would allow me to save up a tidy nest egg too, particularly since I didn’t really need to purchase any of my own food.

  I realized I felt trapped. It wasn’t lost on me that my thoughts went to being trapped like a rat. Another image of a cat and rodent. I felt annoyed that anything about the house was ruining my escape to the “city.”

  I sighed and tossed my cup in the garbage as I headed out to the library. A woman smiled at me as I left. I wasn’t sure but I thought she was one of the people working around the house, those mysterious cleaners that I might glimpse a little but not really see. They were more elusive than the ghosts, actually.

  Which made me wonder if she really was a cleaner or if she was one of the ghosts. I’d hate it if they were following me and refusing to let me get away on my own. I waited a second to make sure the girl interacted with the young man at the counter. She did.

  I hurried away from the Tim Hortons, feeling a little silly. And feeling a bit near tears that I was so obsessed with ghosts and hauntings. I really needed to get away from the Manor.

  Chapter 22

  The drive back to the Manor couldn’t have been more different. My shoulders were tightening and I could feel them raising towards my ears as I drove. The sun was gone and the clouds were dark. When I opened the window to try and avoid the smell of French fries, which were no longer so wonderful, I smelled rain.

  It was still muggy out, my clothes clinging to my body, although it wasn’t warm enough for me to sweat. My body was giving off an odor that reminded me of vegetables rotting in the sun. Lovely. I would need to shower before going down to dinner.

  I had spent the rest of the morning in the library, becoming more frustrated. I finally gave up and asked for help from a friendly librarian. She pointed me towards the historical society. I’d passed it on my walk earlier in the day. When I got there, they were open for another hour.

  I went in and talked to a lovely woman who found me more information than I could have imagined. I spent the time taking as many notes as I could, purchasing a ridiculously expensive notebook emblazoned with their name in which to do so. I just couldn’t type on my phone fast enough and I hadn’t thought to bring my laptop. I had planned to use the library’s computers.

  I had some lunch and then wandered around the town, looking at various shops and feeling out of sorts. I hadn’t liked the information I’d found and the implications of it. Sandy, the woman at the historical society was going to check a few things for me to verify. That had started the raising of my shoulders right there and no amount of retail therapy had helped.

  The dark clouds that had begun floating in from the east didn’t make the tension any better. I had given up and gone to my car, still parked down near the port, and driven back towards Schilling Manor, finding my mood darkening every bit as much as the sky.

  There were only four cars in the parking area there this time. I expected two of them belonged to Pat and Bob. I wondered who the other two cars belonged to. I sighed. I’d purchased nothing but the food I’d eaten there and the notebook, forgetting everything I had hoped to look for when I’d gotten started researching the family.

  I hoped Sandy got back to me quickly and that my phone actually worked when she did.

  I also hoped that no one asked me anything about the visit until I was ready to share. I hate the idea of gossip, particularly gossip that isn’t true, and I didn’t want to engage in it. Whi
le I was fairly certain I had true information, I wanted to wait until I was certain before telling Bethany. I didn’t want anyone to get fired. I also didn’t want to have to leave because of hard feelings if it were all innocent.

  Inside, the kitchen wasn’t as bright as usual or maybe it was the absence of Pat and Bob. It wasn’t dinner time yet, though, and it was a weekend. With so few people around, why would they be working very hard on a meal?

  I heard thunder rumble in the sky as I started up the stairs. I was oddly glad to be back if the rain was going to start. I could have wished for more people around, though. The idea of being stuck in the house with only a few other people in a storm didn’t thrill me. I hoped the others would return soon.

  Fortunately, while the thunder rumbled its threats outside, the power barely flickered. I reached my room, pleased to see that not only was it made up, but that my laundry had been done and was lying neatly folded on the bed. I washed up and then put away my clothing, glad to have the sweater back as it held the walkie-talkie so much more tidily than my other shirt.

  Not that I had the walkie-talkie. Of course, did I need one, really? I had a ghost to guide me, after all.

  I pulled out my laptop and logged on, checking on my real life. I’d called Tessie after I’d left the historical society and we’d chatted about the job and her life and how things were going back home in Columbia. It was hot there today, unusually so for June, but Tessie never minded. She was out on her balcony in the shade having a sweet tea.

  The idea had made my mouth water and I’d tried to find sweet tea in Sydney. I had spotted a McDonald’s which does nice sweet tea in the states but they didn’t have sweet tea in Canada, a huge disappointment when I was missing home.

  It had added a small insult to other small injuries putting me out of sorts for the rest of the afternoon, just in case I hadn’t already been out of sorts to begin with.

  Now, home, such as it was, in my room, I took out the notebook and then got my laptop. I decided the best way to do things was to attempt to transcribe my notes and maybe reorganize what I knew.

  Thunder crashed again, making me jump. The lights flickered and I waited for them to go out, but they stayed on. I made sure I had the electric lantern near the bed, just in case. I settled back in to do some work.

  I was busy copying information about Bethany’s family tree onto the computer when I heard someone walk down the hallway. It was an ordinary walk, not the thumping of the evening before. I smelled cinnamon, like someone was eating a cinnamon roll. My stomach growled faintly in response.

  I considered getting up to see who it was, perhaps engage in conversation, but if it was Bethany there was too much I’d have to hold back, so I stayed where I was listening to the rain patter against the window and the thunder crack overhead.

  Lights flickered every few seconds and my arm was tense from being ready to grab the electric lantern. The light from outside was becoming dimmer as the dark clouds rolled over what little light was left from the sun.

  Evening was setting in.

  I felt a chill creep over me and suddenly I didn’t want to be in the room. I got up, taking my time putting the computer aside and plugging it back into the surge protector, which I noticed was off. I turned it back on.

  I left my phone there, too, but grabbed the electric lantern and left the room. The chill followed me, like my own personal small cloud blocking out the warmth from the sun. It wasn’t icy or freezing, yet I was in a spot that was just a little colder than I thought it should be. I almost sensed that the rest of the place was a tiny bit warmer than the space I occupied which was an unsettling feeling.

  The lights went out as I was stepping onto the first floor. No warning. No flickers. Just light one minute and then nothing. The side door had a small pane of glass that let in a little light, leaving me in grayness. I turned on the electric lantern and continued into the kitchen.

  Pat was swearing quietly. Bob was just frowning.

  “Probably a cold meal,” Pat said. I could tell she was mad.

  “I wasn’t down for dinner already,” I said. It was at least another hour until six. “I just couldn’t stand being in my room any longer.”

  “Be glad when this week is over,” Pat said. “I’m used to the power being finicky here, but this is ridiculous. We’ve used the darned generator so many times that we’re out of fuel. I called Jimmy so he can get someone out here with more, but that means we can’t do any cooking unless the power decides to come back on.”

  I didn’t hold out any more hope of that happening than Pat did.

  “What had you planned?” I asked. Bob had pulled up a stool, waiting for Pat to make a decision.

  “We do the big meal on Friday so that we just have leftovers out for Saturday. Then Sunday we do cold cuts. Makes less work for us as the week winds down,” Pat said. “I hate to let all that stuff go to waste. I’m not here to warm it up on Sunday evening though. And I’m not staying, not after this week.”

  I had had no idea that they were having power issues in the kitchen and I said as much.

  Bob shrugged. “We tell Maggie or Jimmy and they take care of it. No reason for the rest of you to know.”

  I nodded. “How long have you two been working here?” I asked.

  “About six months now,” Pat said. “Although I’m starting to wonder if the money is worth it. I live way down south of here, and it’s quite a drive even once a week.”

  “I’m just over in Sydney but even that feels like a drive,” Bob said. “I tried going home in the evenings but sometimes the weather is just so bad it’s easier to stay here. And the hours are long enough, it’s nice not to have to commute.”

  I nodded thinking about it.

  “How long has Nathan worked for Bethany?” I asked.

  Pat looked at Bob. “I think about the same amount of time as we have. It’s you all that seem to keep turning over. Rachel is the third antiques person…”

  “Second,” Bob interrupted. “It’s the art historians we’ve had three of now.”

  I nodded, not wanting to correct Bob, but I thought Pat was right.

  “Course, after what the first girl art historian started telling folks who were local to the area, no one would come work here. It’s why they have to hire people from outside of Canada for your jobs,” Pat added. “Not that you aren’t good or anything, but it’s easier for a place like this to not have to hassle with work visas and things like that.”

  I nodded. That made sense. And the pay was extraordinary high for what I was doing, even on a temporary job.

  “They didn’t seem to have a lot of applicants even from the states,” I said. “At least not for the library job.”

  Pat shook her head. “Lots of folks hear it’s live-in and don’t want to move to another place even for a year. Even if they do, it takes a special person to be out here in the middle of nowhere for that amount of time. I think they interviewed two other librarians before you. One was married and her husband didn’t want to come here. He worked from home in IT but we have such poor coverage he didn’t want to chance it. The other wasn’t suitable at all, at least not from what I heard.”

  It sounded like Pat had heard a lot, I thought.

  “Tell me about Jonathan,” I said. “He’s a funny guy and not the sort of person I’d expect to find out here.”

  Bob looked at Pat.

  “Bankruptcy,” Pat said. “He was so far in debt that he had to declare bankruptcy. I guess that so many employers check that now that he was having a hard time finding a position and he wasn’t happy with the one he had. Didn’t pay enough. I heard that he and Nathan talked about it and according to what I heard, this worked out well for him. He can’t really shop while he’s here and he can gain a good employment record. Hopefully by the time he’s finished, the bankruptcy won’t be the first thing a new employer sees any longer.”

  Interesting, I thought.

  “And Rachel?” I asked.

  P
at rolled her eyes. At that moment, the side door banged open.

  “That’s a heck of a storm coming in. I hope that everyone coming back gets here soon,” Jimmy said coming in to the kitchen. “There’s no way I’m going back out.”

  He nodded at me smiling.

  “Did you get the fuel then?” Pat asked.

  “I’ll go out and get her set up,” Jimmy said. “I’m hoping that we get a bit of a break before I do it, though. This is a nasty one.”

  Chapter 23

  I waited with Pat and Bob while Jimmy went out to add some fuel to the generator. He came back in before long, once again wet, although not completely soaked.

  I heard him in the hall near the side door talking to someone, probably on his cell, before he came back inside. He was so wet, I smelled rain when he walked by. Pat had seated herself on a stool that was partially pushed under a counter. I was still standing, thinking.

  “We’re in for it,” Jimmy said. “The generator’s been damaged and fuel just runs out of it. It’s a good thing it was nearly out of fuel when it happened or there could have been a fire, not that I think it would have lasted long in this, but that’s just what Bethany doesn’t need.”

  “Well, I guess it’s cold turkey sandwiches then,” Pat sighed. “I’ll get to slicing.”

  She stood up easily and Bob followed her. I wasn’t sure how to help.

  Jimmy went back out to the doorway and made another call. I wasn’t sure who he was talking this time, but I heard his voice and it sounded urgent. He seemed to be keeping it lower than he had earlier and I wondered what this phone call was about.

  He came back, his face as thundery as the storm outside.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I think someone purposely damaged the generator. I’m not sure if they meant to hide the damage so we wouldn’t ever notice and cause a fire or if they just wanted to be sure it wouldn’t work. Bethany doesn’t want me calling the police about it.”