by Hazel Holmes
“I can’t wait to see this through all the crazy phases,” Clara said as she admired the house.
“Me either,” Ezra replied as he came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so excited to be starting this journey with you.”
“And I with you. It just feels right.”
“It does.”
There was something in his tone though. Something was a little off, and Clara had been with him long enough to recognize it.
“Do you want to take a walk?” she asked. “Might be good to be out of the movers’ way.”
“That sounds like a fantastic idea.”
They slipped out through the future café and down the snowy pathway. The air was chilly against their exposed cheeks, but not unbearably cold. Most of the people in the area were making the most of this time before it became too cold to go outside. It was one thing that had almost changed their minds about the property. They were going to be hit by winter before even having the chance to enjoy the natural sights the town had to offer. But they couldn’t wait. This was everything they hoped for. Mostly.
“Seems like something’s up,” Clara said as their boots crunched in the snow.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You seem off somehow. Is everything okay?”
“It is,” Ezra replied. He looked at the clear water and remembered ice fishing with his siblings and father. His mother made hot chocolate when they came back in each time. He rarely caught anything, but they were some of his favorite memories. “I just keep thinking about my father.”
“That’s understandable,” she said. “This is all happening because of him.”
“Exactly. It’s tough though because I kind of feel like he would disapprove. He’d probably want me to use the money to invest, start a more prestigious company, get further schooling, buy a more impressive house. I don’t know, there are a million opinions he had on how I should live my life. Owning a bed and breakfast in some small mountain town doesn’t seem like it’d align with that.
“Since he died, I keep feeling like he’s watching me. People always say that when someone dies, you know? That they’re watching over you. It doesn’t reassure me though. It just feels imposing and creepy. I can feel him judging me, thinking I’m making a mistake, disapproving of all my choices.”
They stopped in front of the water. Clara turned to Ezra and took his cold cheeks in her hands. She kissed him, and his fear melted a little as he remembered what was important.
“People only say that to make you feel better,” she said. “I really don’t think he’s following you around but even if he were, you can’t live your life based on his opinion. You were both different people, you have different views on what makes you happy. I think he’d accept that and if he didn’t, it doesn’t matter. It’s not his life.
“It’s impressive he was able to go so far in his career, make so much money. But I wouldn’t be happy with a husband who was gone that often. I wouldn’t be happy living that kind of life, and I don’t think you’d be either. We’re creating our own happiness here how we want it. That’s so special. That’s us. I know it’s tough, but you can’t let his ghost taint that.”
“I’ll try not to,” he said. “I hope being here will help. I think it’ll be good to be away from the city, away from all that, and starting the life we’ve chosen here.”
“I think so too. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. No ghost can take that away from us.”
10
That night as they were getting settled in their new bedroom, it was Clara’s turn to feel like someone was watching them. She had an odd feeling as she straightened out their black comforter over their king-sized bed. The blanket got tangled around the silver bed frame. She fixed it, then paused.
It felt like there was something in the dark corners peering out at her, a quiet observer. She suspected it had something to do with Ezra’s earlier confession, or the eeriness of sleeping in a different place. They had gotten most of the things that belonged in their bedroom unpacked, but it was still quite the change.
The champagne bottle lights Clara had made herself cast playful shadows over the wine-colored walls. They seemed to move on their own, swept along by magic. She chided herself for being silly, but the feeling clung to her like spiderwebs. Nonthreatening, yet difficult to shake off.
The sound of water assured her Ezra was still in the shower. He’d be out soon, but for now he wouldn’t be able to see her fear, something she was grateful for. He was already on edge, still trying to deal with the death of his father. She had convinced him that the feeling of his father watching him wasn’t anything to be worried about, but she knew he was still uneasy. She didn’t want to reawaken those fears by confessing she felt like someone was watching her too.
However, to her those eyes didn’t feel like her father-in-law’s gaze. It was difficult to tell because the feeling was so faint. But when Ezra’s father looked at her, she always felt unworthy. Judged. Uncomfortable. Though he never admitted it to her, she knew he disapproved of her and it made her second guess every move she made when she was around him.
This didn’t feel like that. It felt like someone was watching, but it didn’t make her self-conscious. Rather, this gaze put her on edge in a different way. She was alarmed because of the unknown.
Clara glanced at the bathroom door, still closed, then went over to the window. She pushed aside the black lace curtains and peered out into the night. The outdoor lights were on automatically, but they didn’t reach far into the darkness. They only allowed her to see that no one was right up close to the house.
That would have to be enough for now. She knew no one was watching her anyway. It was simply a silly feeling from the stress of everything. She went to turn away from the window, then stopped.
Just at the edge of the shadows, by a big willow tree, was the figure of a tall, imposing man. Clara froze. Terrified. She wanted to call to Ezra, but she didn’t want to scare him. She considered calling the police and reporting a trespasser, but she wasn’t sure if that was an overreaction. She wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was even real, or just the result of a tired mind. The figure was dark, barely formed.
And then it was gone.
The man, if there really was a man standing there, disappeared into the night. Clara watched, anxious to see if the light would reveal him again. All she saw was the stillness of the mountain. Peaceful snow.
A few minutes later, the water turned off in the bathroom. Clara debated if she should tell Ezra what she saw. It could be important for him to know. If there were an intruder on the property, they’d have to be vigilant. But she didn’t want to stir up old feelings he had towards his father. He was already stressed enough lately. She suspected if she told him she felt like she was being watched and she saw a black figure of a man, his mind would instantly go to his father. Sure, the rational side of him would know better. The other side might worry that the ghost of his father was watching, disapproving.
She moved away from the window and sat at her ornate, gothic desk. She couldn’t tell Ezra. She wasn’t even sure of what she’d seen, and she didn’t want to worry him unless it was necessary. It was likely the product of fear. If she saw something like that again, she’d speak up.
For now, she pulled out her journal. She wouldn’t tell Ezra, but she would write what she’d seen. In case it happened again, at least there would be some record of it. She jotted it down, then quickly tucked it away to enjoy her first night in their amazing new house with a husband she loved with all her heart.
11
“I found the thermostat and adjusted it,” Ezra said as he brought Clara some coffee. She was reading in front of the fireplace, flat on her stomach, lounging on the coziest blanket she could find. Fuzzy socks warmed her shifting feet, but they couldn’t fight the cold completely. They were still learning how to keep the fire going, and it had gone out y
et again a couple of hours ago. Taking care of the home was going to be an adjustment, but they were adjusting. “I know you like the idea of keeping this place warm by the fireplace alone but…”
“I’ve given up on that,” she laughed as she sat up. She accepted the much-needed coffee, laying her book on her lap. “I didn’t realize how much maintenance it would take. Now I can see why furnaces were invented.”
“Right? I think the fireplaces are a nice touch to give a little extra warmth to the rooms, but we’re not talented enough to completely shrug off modern advances.” He glanced down at her book. “Interesting choice. I don’t think I’ve seen you pick up a novel by Jodi Picoult before.”
“It’s my first,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have thought to pick it up on my own, but it was chosen by the local book club, so I grabbed it before we came here and am almost finished reading it.”
“Book club? I didn’t know you joined a book club.” He joined her in front of the fire, appreciating the warmth of the flames. Tucked next to her like this, in their dream house out in the mountains, was everything he never knew he wished for.
“Sorry, I thought I told you. There’s just been so much going on lately I must’ve forgotten. The meeting’s tonight actually, so I don’t know if I technically joined it yet. It’s at the local library and I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.
“I figured that as newcomers, the town might be a little wary of us. They’re probably a tight-knit community. They won’t know what to think of the city slickers who bought the new bed and breakfast and will be changing things a little bit. That could present a challenge as we attempt to draw guests in.
“So, I figured I’d get ahead of this potential issue and get to know people. Maybe if I can make friends, they’ll help us spread the word about our new business. Maybe I can get some solid advice from the people who know the area best, and eventually perhaps we can even work with other businesses in the area.”
“That’s a great idea,” Ezra said. He was glad they bought the bed and breakfast. Clara was glowing. It seemed she truly was suited for it. “I suspect we might run up against some issues seeing as two children were murdered here. Getting to know people could also help with that. We can show them we’re different, move on from the haunted past.”
“I sure hope so.” Clara kissed him. “We’ll do whatever is necessary to make this work.”
She was so hopeful, she almost completely forgot about the man she’d seen outside the night before.
Almost.
12
Even if it didn’t help grow their business, Clara was glad she decided to go to the book club. Just seeing the small brick library made her happy. Though she hadn’t been inside it yet, it felt familiar. It was a welcome relief in a town that was lovely, yet a huge adjustment from her life in Chicago.
The trees shivered under the snow, but the warm light from frosty windows promised a haven tucked away in this winter wonderland. She opened the door and was greeted with the aroma of fresh baked sugar cookies and that bookish smell. A tall young man smiled at her from behind the librarian’s desk. His hazel eyes were bright beneath his glasses, brown hair a little messy. He looked like a scholar, though it still was a bit surprising. She hadn’t come across many male librarians.
“Good morning,” he said. “My name is Christian. Have we met before?” His eyebrows furrowed as he sifted through his memories. They didn’t get new people in the library often, and most newcomers were children who had finally reached the age where their parents felt safe enough to bring them or were old enough to come by themselves.
“No, I’m new in town. My name’s Clara.” She offered her hand, which he accepted with a warm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Clara. Can I help you find anything? It’s usually pretty quiet in here, so I’m more than happy to give you a tour. Always exciting to see new faces.”
“I’d love that, but perhaps another time? For today, I’m here for the book club.”
“Wonderful! That’s a great way to meet some great people. They’re some of my favorite patrons. They gather in a cozy room in the back. Come with me, I’ll show you the way.”
Clara kept her book close as she followed Christian through the inviting rows of books. The shelves were stuffed to the brim with all sorts of titles and Clara couldn’t wait to dive right in. It was different than the library back in the city. This one was more old fashioned, much smaller, and far more charming.
Christian was right about the room the book club was held in too. The antique paper-colored walls were decorated in literary quotes scrawled in an impeccable calligraphy style. Red flannel couches were covered in snowy pillows, and fuzzy chairs were perfect for cupping a human and holding them tight. Cookies and cocoa were waiting on the maple table, and members were already talking among themselves. It seemed like a friendly group and Clara hoped she’d make friends. She wanted to be part of it, even if it didn’t bring in more guests. She was in love with just this taste of small-town life.
“Don’t be shy,” Christian told her. “You don’t need to worry at all. Everyone here is super friendly, and they’ll all be excited to welcome you. In fact…”
He walked right up to a short, curvy woman with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was beautiful and radiated a welcoming energy, and she smiled as they came over.
“Brittany, this is Clara,” Christian said. “She’s new in town and new to the book club. Clara, this is Brittany.”
“Welcome,” Brittany said as they shook hands. “It’s so awesome to be joined by another book lover. Did you do the reading for today’s meeting?”
“Just finished it today,” Clara replied. “It was my first time reading her work and I loved it. The ending literally brought me to tears.”
“I love that! Being open to new things is so important, especially for this book club. Though we do rotate who chooses the books. So, if you stay with us long enough, you’ll have to introduce us to the kind of books you usually read.”
Clara was already in love with this club and the interesting way it was run. Christian left the women alone to drink hot chocolate and eat cookies. No one seemed in a rush to get the meeting started, and she had shown up early for this reason specifically.
“What brings you to the mountains?” Brittany asked between sips of hot chocolate.
“My husband and I just bought a bed and breakfast here,” Clara answered. “We’re hoping to make a few changes and open up soon. We’ll probably have an open house of some sorts before we do, so you’ll be welcome to come check it out.”
“I’d love to!” she said. “My husband and I also own a bed and breakfast, so we’re kind of competitors.” She laughed. “But no worries. It’s good for visitors to have multiple options to choose from. It brings more people in, benefiting all of us.
“We’ve worked with other lodging owners in the past on various projects to draw people to the area, and we’ve found tremendous success that way. We’re all a little different, so people enjoy that. Maybe the two of us can work together once you get settled in. I’d love to make new connections.”
“That would be perfect!” Clara replied, thankful she was introduced to the most helpful person she could’ve asked for. It worked out even better than she thought it would. “We’ll have to get together sometime and make a plan. I have so many ideas. This has been a dream of mine forever, and it’ll be so great to work with someone who knows the area and the business well.”
“I love your enthusiasm.” She smiled and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Did you happen to buy Lyla and Richard’s old place?”
The moment of truth. How would people react given the history of the house? “Yes,” Clara admitted.
Sadness gripped onto Brittany’s smile, dimming her light just a little. She nodded. “Of course. I think that’s the only one for sale in the area. Lyla and I were best friends. We’d known each other since elementary school
and were excited to run our businesses together. We made sure our bed and breakfasts were on opposite sides of town, so we wouldn’t be direct competitors, and worked together to make the area a hot spot for tourists. What happened to her and Richard… It’s beyond tragic.”
“It is,” Clara agreed. “I’m sorry for your loss. When something so unexpected and awful happens, it can certainly tear through a community. It must be so difficult to deal with.”
“It is. We’re all still learning how to cope. It must be frightening living in that house now. A horror story come to life.”
“It is unsettling,” Clara admitted. “It’s not ideal to run a bed and breakfast in a house where children were murdered. But we’re going to try to create something good out of such a tragedy. Bad things happen everywhere. Tragedy isn’t tied to a specific place.”
“Yes, but…” Brittany’s voice softened as she moved closer to Clara. The look in her eyes made Clara uneasy about her decision to buy the house. “A lot of people think the house is haunted.”
“Haunted?”
“Yes, haunted. I know it sounds silly and maybe even a bit naïve, but I kind of believe it. Even though we have yet to find Lyla and Richard, the consensus is they killed their children, then ran off. I know for certain that my best friend would never do anything like that. However, it seems to be the only explanation.
“If they did murder their children, there had to be some sort of dark force compelling them to do so. Before all this happened, Lyla was acting rather… peculiar. She claimed she saw a figure in the shadows sometimes, that odd things were happening in the house. She said the lights would randomly go off on their own, then turn back on again before they could figure out what caused it in the first place. She said things were being moved around the house when no one touched them. Near the end she admitted she was hearing voices. It seemed her state of mind was really spiraling.
