***
Lia
“Lia,” Mom said as soon as I entered the kitchen from the garden. Dad stood beside her. Their expressions brought me back down to earth.
“I thought you were going into Wildwood with Ezra, Dad,” I said. “What’s wrong?
“My appointment called and rescheduled for this afternoon.” He held his arms across his chest, and my mother looked everywhere but at me.
“Just tell me, Mom.” With a sinking stomach, I braced myself for bad news.
“Your mother and I have decided to hire a professional caterer for the Fourth.” He held himself so still it reminded me of someone expecting a blow. Then his words sank in.
“You’re hiring someone else to do the catering?” My own parents didn’t have confidence in my abilities. A traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. “What am I then, just the grunt work around here?”
“It has nothing to do with your abilities, sweetheart. I promise.” Mom looked at me then. “I wanted you to put on an English tea party in the ballroom. It would be too much for you to do both.”
My imagination caught fire. An English tea. With yummy food. A part of me refused to let the caterer thing go, though.
“Are you just trying to placate me?” I asked.
“No, no, Lia,” Dad handed me a tissue. “This tea thing your mom’s talking about is a perfect way for you to get your feet wet. Besides”—he lowered his voice—“she’s hoping you’ll love doing it and want to do it again. So you’ll stay here with us.”
“Roger!” Mom shot him a look of daggers. “Why don’t you just blab everything?” She turned to me. “Don’t you think a tea would be fun? You’ll be completely in charge.”
My parents stood there, waiting for my decision and trying not to let me see how tightly they were squeezing each other’s hands. The sweetness twisted at my heart.
“I think we should limit it to fifty people,” I said, relenting. “What’s my budget?”
They drew me into a group hug.
“Now, where’s my teapot?” Mom asked. “I can’t get anything done until I have my cup of tea.”
“My brush was missing again this morning,” I said. “You really have to talk to the boys.”
“Roj, you do it. Maybe they’ll listen to you.” Mom pulled a small pot from the rack and started filling it with water. “And pick up another kettle while you’re in the village.”
“I’m going to check out the ballroom while you’re getting your tea then,” I said.
As I left the kitchen, my emotions jumbled together. The thrill of being in charge of the tea event fought with my frustration over losing out on a kiss. I consoled myself with thoughts of a midnight picnic.
When I entered the formal dining room of the east tower, Mellie skipped into the room, her cheeks pink from the exercise. She looked healthier than I could remember in a couple of years. Since we had lost Phoebe. Maybe the size of the place made a difference. Between running around the house and running around the grounds, she was constantly in motion. Her appetite resembled that of the boys’ now.
“Mom’s teapot is missing,” I said, walking into the great hall. “If it’s Eli and Joel again ….”
“They both said they aren’t doing all those things.” She stopped in front of me, a little breathless, her cardigan bringing out the green in her hazel eyes. “I believe them.”
“I don’t really think the rest of the family is playing pranks, little love.” I gave her braid a tug. “Who else would it be?”
“Phoebe says it’s him.” Mellie pointed to the northwest tower.
“Don’t say that.” I looked over my shoulder in case Mom and Dad had followed me. Why the northwest tower? Weird place for the imaginary friend of Mellie’s imaginary friend. It stood farthest from the social areas, and our parents hadn’t decided what to do with it yet.
“I know.” Mellie looked at me, seeming wise for a seven year old. “They think Nan and Poppy are doing it, but they’re not.”
Mom hadn’t been happy the first time she had heard Mellie call Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery Nan and Poppy. Then the boys had started calling them that.
But seriously. If the Montgomerys had wanted to scare us away, making the kids love them seemed a really idiotic way to go about it. My mother hadn’t said anything lately, either about her theory the Montgomerys meant to scare us away or about the nicknames.
“Who’s not what?” Ezra asked, coming up behind us.
I explained about the missing teapot. Mellie said again she didn’t believe Joel and Eli had taken it, then declared she wanted breakfast and skipped off toward the kitchen.
“So, where’d it go?” I asked, frustrated.
“It’s there.” With a funny expression on his face, Ezra raised his hand and pointed to something off to the side. Mom’s teapot held a precarious balance on the top helmet of one of the castle’s two suits of armor that guarded the front door. “I’m impressed.” Ezra took slow steps toward it. “How did they do that?”
I walked around the armor. The boys were just coming into their height, not quite as tall as Dad and Ezra. I tried to imagine one of the boys using a ladder or a tall piece of furniture and still managing to get close enough to the armor to balance the teapot on top. No way did their arms reach that high.
“How are we going to get it down?” I asked.
“Like this?” My brother reached out a finger and gave the armor a gentle nudge. The teapot tipped and fell. Ezra caught it easily, but the lid hit the floor with a metallic clang.
“This has to stop.” I picked it up and handed it to him. “My hairbrush is missing again too. After Dad got so mad when they unplugged all the appliances last week, I thought they’d stop.”
At the sound of heavy footsteps on the front porch, Ezra grinned, handed me the kettle, and opened the door to Coop. “Come in, my big friend.”
“Hey, Ez. I thought you were going into the village. Everything all right?” Coop noticed me then. His slow smile warmed me so much that I could have taken off my sweater. He finally gave his boots one more stomp before stepping into the room. “Is that a new teapot?”
“Another prank by the boys.” I nodded toward the armor and explained.
“It was balancing right on top?” Coop walked over to the base that held the armor and lifted his hand into the air. As tall as he stood, he couldn’t have reached it.
“It didn’t take much to bring it down.” Ezra took back the teapot and examined it like it would tell him what had happened.
I went to stand next to Coop, who pulled a face. He looked from me to Ezra to the suit of armor, finally settling on my brother with a wary expression.
“We didn’t do this,” Coop said, his voice soft but firm. “You just saw I can’t reach it. Can you imagine my father teetering on a ladder, trying to balance that thing up there?”
I’d been staring at the armor, and they both looked at me. “Isn’t it obvious?” I asked. “The boys couldn’t have done it either.”
“Not the ghost again,” Ezra said with a flat tone.
“You may not believe it’s a ghost,” Coop said, “but, if none of us are doing these things, there’s some weird stuff going on here. The window-washing pulley didn’t fail that first day. Pop told me last night. When it tilted, it was like someone lifted one end and not like the rope was slipping. It threw him off balance, and he fell.” Coop’s tone turned more intense. “He said he had grabbed the end of the board, but there’s no way he could hang on for long. That’s when one of the ropes wrapped itself around his foot and pinned him there.” He gave us both a meaningful look as he said, “It gave him something to rest his other foot on.”
“Oh, please.” Ezra didn’t roll his eyes, but it looked like it took an effort for him not to. “What. Are you saying we have a prankster ghost, but one who won’t go too far?”
“I’m just telling you what my father said.” Coop shrugged. “It’s not Eli and Joel pulling these pranks. They’ve bo
th told me you all think they’re doing them, and it’s ticking them off. They said it’s not fair, them getting the blame without any of the fun.” He grinned and shook his head.
“I’ve seen a couple of weird things too,” I said. Ezra shot me a look, like I was only saying it because I liked Coop. “You’re such a punk sometimes, Ez. I’m not making this up.”
“All right. Fine.” My brother took a step back and raised his hands, as though in surrender, the teapot hanging from his thumb. He looked between Coop and me. “I’ll be open-minded, but I’ll be logical too. When did this start? After Miles died? Are you saying he’s haunting the place?”
Coop took a deep breath and told Ezra what he had told me. “I asked Mum about it, and she said that over the years some of the servants reported seeing things or feeling really cold. Those have happened more frequently the last couple of years, but even then, not all that often. Not like now.”
“Like now? So it’s only recently the sightings have been about more than weird feelings and spooky shadows?” When Coop nodded, Ezra turned the teapot around in his hands, thinking. “Okay, let’s say there is a ghost here, and it’s not Miles.” He gave us both a hard look. “Why now? And why would it be happening more often?” My brother started to pace in front of us. “I’ve researched the history of this place, and I admit there were ghost stories when the castle was in Ireland. Nothing’s been reported since it was reconstructed here in the States, way more than a hundred years ago.”
“True.” Coop shoved his hands in his pockets, considering us. Finally he said, “I think it’s Sir Hugh.”
“Who?” I asked.
“That guy in the library painting,” he said. “The one you saw there.”
“What’s this?” Ezra took my arm and turned me to face him, his expression incredulous. “You’re kidding me, right? You don’t think you’ve actually seen a ghost.” It was a command.
“Twice.” I exchanged glances with Coop. “Ez is right, though. There has to be a reason. Wasn’t that guy in the picture from Ireland?”
“Yes. His grandson immigrated to America and made a fortune in the Gold Rush. He moved here and decided to bring the family castle over. I do think Sir Hugh is the ghost.” Coop held out his hands. “Look, before you argue with me, here’s my theory. It took a long time to take the citadel apart, ship it over here, and then put it back together again.”
“So?” Ezra’s sarcasm meant we were losing him.
“I read somewhere that ghosts are tied to a place. Well, they took that place apart. Maybe he had a hard time pulling himself together again. I don’t know. A couple of years ago he’d only show himself for a few seconds, but now he’s able to chuck part of a picture frame at Mum. And even bigger, he wrapped that rope around Pop’s foot.”
“Don’t forget the teapot.” I pointed to it.
“And the teapot. He’s getting stronger.” Coop ran agitated hands through his short hair. “I’m not making this up. I swear. The citadel is haunted.”
“Sick!” Eli and Joel shouted in unison. They ran to Coop, each grabbing one of his arms. “A ghost, really?” The little scar by Joel’s mouth dimpled the skin from his broad grin. He didn’t wait for an answer but spun to his twin.
“Ghostbusters,” Eli said, his face taking on its mischief-planning gleam.
“Yaaas.” Joel let out a whoop and the two dashed away.
“Um ....” Coop frowned at me in confusion.
“You do know what this means, don’t you?” I asked Ezra.
“Oh, yeah.” My brother let out a deep breath. “They’re going to try to catch your ghost.”
Chapter 5
Hugh made the sad moan he had used to great effect in Ireland, but he had to pause to force his hand to take form again. It should not be so difficult. He clenched his jaw, and his moan turned into a growl. When he grasped the door’s handle, the sound changed yet again.
Shaking his head, he tried to make the sound ominous. If he did not believe it, those upstarts would not. Frustration welled up inside him. His moan turned howlish.
“Will you boys cut it out?” boomed the father’s voice from his sleeping room next door. “You sound like someone’s torturing a cat.”
Even as Hugh’s hand lost its form, the boys’ door flew open.
“Gotcha!” a young voice shouted and something sailed through the opening.
Hugh transformed into a misty ball of pale light and swirled from the open doorway. He stared at the white net that lay on the ground near his feet. If he had not lost control and his substance with it the thing would have caught him in it.
The indignity of it.
“What’s that blue light?” the same voice whispered.
Fuming, Hugh retreated down the hallway. He had been proud to haunt using the same blue field of his beloved Irish regimental colours. Those hellions and their dastardly traps. They’d nearly had him that time.
“We need another plan,” the other lad said.
“Yeah,” his evil twin responded.
“Joel. Eli.” The father’s door opened so hard it bounced off the wall. “Bed. NOW.”
The boys scurried back into their room.
On second thought, Hugh decided he preferred another floor and beat the retreat.
Lia
GLAD THE RUCKUS HADN’T WAKENED Mellie, I slipped down the hallway to the boys’ room. I pressed my ear to the door and heard whispering. A soft tap might not be loud enough for the boys to hear, but I didn’t want to make Dad any angrier. Their whispering stopped. I tapped again and opened the door a crack.
“It’s me. Lia,” I whispered. I didn’t move any farther into the room in case they took me for the ghost and threw something.
“Come in,” Eli hissed.
Once inside, I shut the door behind me. After the moonlight from the hall, the darkness blinded me. Their alarm clock didn’t even shine. I closed my eyes to let them adjust.
“What?” Joel finally asked, his lingering hurt still strong in his voice. “You gonna yell at us too?”
“I saw a hand turn your doorknob.” I opened my eyes and glanced between the still forms on the two beds. “Just a hand—and the blue light.”
“You believe us.” Joel rose to his knees, making no effort to keep down his excitement.
“Shh.” I pointed to the wall that separated their room from our parents’. “That’s stone, but the door isn’t.”
“All right. All right,” Joel muttered.
“It glowed,” Eli whispered.
“Yeah, it did,” I said.
“I don’t get it,” Joel said. “That light was bright, and it went right past Dad. Why didn’t he see it?”
“Ez came out for a sec and walked right into it,” Eli added. “He didn’t act like he saw it either.”
I hadn’t noticed Ezra. So he hadn’t seen the ghost and neither had Dad. What did that mean? The boys had shifted to quietly arguing about something, so I returned to my room.
Mellie stirred when I slipped into bed. Every night I read her a princess story in her own bed. Every night she ended up in mine. Was it because of the ghost talk?
She saw him, even claimed she could talk to him. Too bad her imaginary friend compromised her credibility. But what about me? It felt like I was still in middle school, freaked out by that stupid scary movie. It’d only happened once, but no one in the family had let me live it down.
I sighed. To be honest with myself, if I hadn’t seen this Sir Hugh, I’d probably be as suspicious as my parents and Ezra. But I had seen the ghost and so had Mrs. Montgomery. My thoughts stopped short. That must explain it.
Believing was seeing.
There had to be a way to convince the family cynics. But how to get them to believe in ghosts enough to see our ghost? The contradiction made my head hurt. And what difference would it make if they did? Did they know how to get rid of a ghost? I needed to talk to Coop about it. Maybe he’d have some ideas.
Later, the sound of a te
xt message ping brought me out of a doze. I shot out of the bed and froze in place, listening. Mellie didn’t stir. I picked up my phone.
Meet me by the heart in 10. Dress warm. Wear boots. Bring blanket.
My pulse raced. After three days of rain, I’d almost given up on the picnic. I texted him back.
On my way.
With hands that shook a little from excitement, I rushed into my clothes while trying not to wake Mellie. I gathered up the old wool blanket I’d pulled out days ago just for this.
The moonlight washed out the garden’s usual vivid colors, and the breeze rustling through the trees made it a little eerie. The familiar glow from Coop’s solar-powered path lights led me to him. He stood by the heart garden, a tarp in one hand and a flat box in the other.
“Hi.” I’d waited to be alone with him for three miserable, rainy days. Three days of not working and talking with him in the garden Three days to wonder what he’d meant by “if.” Three days to build it up in my mind and then worry I was making it into more than it really was. More than I probably should anyway. I took a deep breath.
“Hey,” Coop said. The heavenly smell of baked bread coming from the box made my stomach growl. Maybe Nan’s little adage about food being the way to a man’s stomach didn’t stop with guys. He held out his elbow for me to take. “This way, my lady.”
Surprised at his courtly manner, I slid my arm through his. My senses went into overdrive. In Sacramento, we’d spent a lot of time outdoors, in the sun and water. For the last year, my memories of Coop had included the smell of sunscreen. Not so since moving to Washington. Tonight he smelled so good he must have taken extra effort. I wished he had given me more advance notice.
Self-conscious, I reached for anything to talk about. “You won’t believe what happened earlier.”
“What?”
I explained about what I’d seen, as he took us beyond the open part of the castle’s “U.”
“Wish I’d seen that—careful there.” Coop guided me away from an uneven section of ground with standing water, shimmering in the moonlight. “There’s a good spot.” He pointed to a slight rise in the middle of a section of ground my parents had talked about developing into an extension of the garden, with a pavilion and water features for receptions.
A Savage Ghost Page 6
