by Hazel Holmes
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. “Am I cooking the dish wrong?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing with your dish,” Ezra hissed. “Because I’ve been too busy focusing on my own work, which is exactly what you should’ve been doing. I’m sure you were probably trying to help me or something, but I’d rather you mention something to me if you think a change needs to be had with one of my dishes, rather than going ahead and doing it without mentioning anything to me.
“Furthermore, that burner should not be brought up that high to begin with, especially not with a caramel sauce. You could’ve started a fire in here, and that’s exactly what we don’t need right now. I really don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel paled. “But I truly don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t touch your dish. I’ve been working on my own food, and I certainly wouldn’t turn up your burner without talking to you first, unless you weren’t here. I may not be as experienced as you are, but I do know enough to know caramel shouldn’t be cooked on a high setting. I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t do it.”
Ezra had years of practice of puzzling out whether a cook was lying to him. His accuracy wasn’t at one hundred percent, but he did like to think he was decent at it. As he looked at Nathaniel, he didn’t pick up on any indications he was lying. In fact, he looked rather bewildered. He seemed worried as well, but not necessarily worried because he was hiding something. He seemed worried because Ezra was angry, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Sorry,” Ezra said, letting out a huge breath. “I have no proof it was you, so I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I just know I didn’t turn the burner up that high, so I don’t understand how it happened.”
“Me either,” Nathaniel replied. “Maybe there’s something wrong with the stove? It’s been a while since anyone was living here. Perhaps there’s been some wear and tear in the meantime.”
“You’re right. If that’s the case, it’s dangerous. I’ll have to keep an eye on it and have someone check it out if this happens again.” He took another deep breath to bring those high emotions down a bit more. “In the meantime, let’s avoid that burner for now, pay extra attention to the stove, and get these dishes cooked.”
Nathaniel nodded and went back to his work, though noticeably a bit tenser than before. Ezra was tense too. His thoughts went back to the night before, when the lights turned off but he and Clara insisted they had nothing to do with it.
Perhaps it was just because it was an old house. Perhaps issues with wiring and electricity were to blame for the lights turning off and the stove turning up. But the knob was turned on the stove. How could wiring effect that? The knob couldn’t turn by itself.
There had to be a rational explanation for it. Ezra was rational enough to know that. He just wished he could think of what that rational explanation was, because an irrational explanation kept poking at his mind.
Ghosts.
Clara’s friend had mentioned ghosts and he thought it was silly, he knew it was silly. Ghosts weren’t real and yet…
Strange things were happening. Things that weren’t easily explained away. So, what if her friend was onto something? What if there were ghosts in the house?
Shutting off the lights was innocent enough. He wasn’t worried about a ghost that would do something like that. But turning up the burner on the stove…
That was terrifying.
They kept an eye on the stove as they finished up their work, and the knobs didn’t even wiggle. Ezra kept watching, waiting for something to happen, hoping for an explanation. He couldn’t find one.
He let his passion take control once more, but it was still at the back of his mind. The strange things that had happened since they arrived had taken hold and wouldn’t let him go anymore. Not until he could figure out what exactly was going on here.
16
“You should’ve seen it,” Ezra said as he tried to wrap his mind around the earlier incident. The cool air was helping to relieve some of the tension, but that uneasy feeling was difficult to shake. “It was ridiculously hot. Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt. The pot is ruined of course, and I know I didn’t turn it up like that.”
“That’s crazy,” Clara said as they tied on their ice skates. “I’m glad you caught it when you did.”
After a bit of nagging, Clara had convinced Ezra to buy himself a pair skates to go out on the ice with her. It was his first time, and she considered waiting on it when she noticed how stressed he was. Upon second thought though, she thought it might be the best time for him to try it. Sure, it could possibly be harder for him to focus with stress fluttering around his mind, but she reasoned it might help him ease up on some of those nagging thoughts and anxiety. She hoped he’d be so focused on not falling that he gave his mind a break from everything else. It seemed like he could use it.
“Me too,” Ezra replied. Since it happened, his mind had plenty of time to brew up all sorts of crazy ideas. They were crazy though, so he wasn’t sure if he should voice them to Clara. He needed someone to give him another explanation though.
“It got me thinking, and I know this is going to sound ridiculous, what if there is some truth to the stories?” he asked, uncertain of how he should best word it without sounding crazy. “Some weird things have been happening lately, and I can’t come up with a good explanation for it. I mean, two people were killed in the house. What if…”
He couldn’t continue and she didn’t need him to. Clara was surprised by his reaction; he was never the kind to jump to supernatural explanations and she wasn’t sure how she should react.
It did seem silly to her, but she didn’t want to invalidate Ezra’s worries. As difficult as it was for her to believe it, she saw how real this felt to him. So, they paused the conversation as she helped him out of the house. The sudden wobbliness of his legs brought Ezra’s mind into focus, while the familiar, smooth feeling of blades on ice helped Clara think clearer.
With the stress of his father’s death, followed by such huge changes, Ezra was bound to be more on edge. Ghost stories certainly wouldn’t help with that, and she wished she never told him what she heard at the book club. He needed someone to be gentle and calming right now. She took that into consideration as she found the kind of words she wanted to say.
“I can see why that would come to mind,” she replied. “You were already dealing with a lot before we moved here. Struggling with that feeling of your father watching over you was bound to add to your fear after what you’ve heard about the house. The strange occurrences lately only feed further into that narrative that something abnormal could be going on here.
“However, I don’t think ghosts are the answer. I suspect faulty electricity was behind the random light shutting off in our room last night, though I agree it doesn’t explain how the knob on the stove got turned to high. I still think there’s a reasonable explanation for it though. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nathaniel had something to do with it.”
“I get why you’d think that,” he admitted as he took baby strides on the ice. His feet wobbled, so he took it slow. Careful. It was like learning how to walk again, which proved to be a great distraction. “That was my first thought too, but he said he didn’t touch it and he seemed genuinely honest. Plus, most cooks know not to cook caramel on high.”
Clara pondered this as her strides grew longer, effortlessly floating across the ice. She did a wide circle at her preferred speed, then made her way back to him, giving her a little more time to think this through.
“Have you considered that maybe it wasn’t an accident?” she asked. “Maybe Nathanial turned the burner up on purpose. Maybe he wanted it to burn.”
“On purpose?” Ezra replied. “Why would he do that though? He seemed happy when I offered him the job.”
“I’m sure he was, but he also said he wanted to buy the property but didn’t have the money to. I’m sure that’s caused a bit o
f bitterness. What if that bitterness led to him wanting to sabotage you a little? Even worse, maybe he’s trying to scare us away so he can buy the house at a cheaper price.”
The thought shocked Ezra but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Nathaniel was the only other person in the kitchen, and he was clearly invested in the property.
“He doesn’t seem the type,” he argued, still reluctant to believe it. “He really seems like a good kid.”
“He very well could be. It wouldn’t be the first time someone hid their true nature though. He could be a good liar. Or he could be a good person generally, but perhaps this brings out his darker nature. He could be thankful for the job while still being upset he wasn’t able to get the property. Upset enough to seek a little revenge.”
Ezra stumbled as his thoughts caught up with him. Clara reached out to steady him, almost going down with him. She caught him at just the right angle though so they both stayed upright.
“That would be concerning,” he said, once he was steady again. “Quite concerning. We’re working in the kitchen together. If he’s that bitter, it could be dangerous.”
They were quiet as they both felt the weight of this. Ezra worried he’d made a huge mistake. One that could put his family at risk, which was the thing he feared most in the entire world.
“We don’t know for sure that’s the case,” Clara said, softening at the distress this thought was clearly bringing upon Ezra. “We don’t want to accuse him of something we don’t have proof of, and we don’t need to worry too much yet. It’s just something to keep an eye out for.”
“I will,” Ezra promised. He still had a good feeling about it. He still thought Nathaniel seemed like a decent guy, but he’d be far more wary now.
“Come on,” Clara said as she took his hand. “Let’s try to forget about that and enjoy the time we have together. You’re doing amazing at skating so far. I’m proud of you.”
“Maybe someday I’ll be even better than you are,” he teased.
“We’ll see about that,” Clara scoffed. She did a flawless figure eight, then joined her husband again. They’d had some trials, but it was tempered by so many good moments that they weren’t disheartened. Yet.
17
The pressure of owning a new bed and breakfast, trying to cope with his father’s death, and being unnerved by the odd things happening was starting to make Ezra restless. Despite the fun evening he had with Clara, the worries returned as soon as he lay in his bed. It took him forever to fall asleep, and he woke less than ten minutes later only to start the process all over again.
By the third time a nightmare woke him, he was incredibly thirsty and stressed. Anxious. He was driven by a strong urge to leave his bed right away. It felt like a trap being stuck here. He couldn’t stay still long enough to rest, and he didn’t feel tired at all.
He decided to get up and go downstairs to avoid waking Clara up. When he worked in Chicago, he would sometimes struggle with a similar problem after rough shifts. He’d be so exhausted from the crazy night yet hyped up from the pressure that his mind wouldn’t allow him to stay asleep. He had a few drink recipes he made for nights like these. So, he went into the kitchen, hoping to find some relief.
He turned on the stove, opting for a golden milk drink made with turmeric. He kept a close eye on the burner this time. He didn’t dare look away for a moment. Despite his rational mind realizing Clara was right, there were no ghosts in the house, a deeper part was still worried. He couldn’t quite get over the strange happenings, though he hoped a bit of sleep might turn that around. If he could manage to get sleep.
Once his milk was ready, he poured it into his favorite mug and brought it into the living room. He turned on the light as he debated if he should start a fire in the fireplace. It could be calming, but he was hoping he wouldn’t be downstairs long enough to enjoy it. Before he could decide, he froze.
It couldn’t be.
His heart pounded as he grew cold, even though he was sweating. His hands shook, mind in shock as he stared at the figure in front of the fireplace. The man leaning against the stones straightened up like he belonged here. Like this was his house.
“Good evening, Ezra,” his father said. “Glad you could finally come to see me.”
“Dad?” Ezra croaked. It was impossible, but there he was. He looked the same as the last time Ezra saw him, with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, steel eyes beneath gold-rimmed glasses, frown lines around his thin, chapped lips. He was rather fit for his age. He tried his best to stay healthy so he could continue caring for his patients. Tall but stooped after all those hours spent bent over the operating table. The only difference was he was a bit more transparent now. It looked like he wasn’t quite fully there.
“Yes,” he said. “You couldn’t have forgotten me already.”
“I just… I thought you were…” He didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know how to process this. “I went to your funeral. Or at least I’m pretty sure I did.” He felt like he was going crazy.
“Yes, a rather unfortunate event. I spent so much time helping others with their health that I completely missed my own body’s signs of deterioration. It’s not so uncommon in my line of work.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known better though. I let so many people down.”
It was something Ezra didn’t see often; his father was disappointed in himself. “It’s not your fault,” he assured him. “You helped people as much as you could. That’s why you missed the signs. You did so much good while you were here.” He paused. “How are you here now then?” His father was being so casual about everything, it was incredibly unsettling, and it was starting to rub off on him.
“How do you think?” he snapped. “I’m a ghost here to warn you because you keep making the stupidest mistakes.”
Any disappointment his father had in himself was directed at Ezra with a force strong enough to make him stumble back and regret trying to reassure him. This was the father he knew. Not exactly the kind of person he wanted to come back in the form of a spirit. He thought he should be grateful to see him again, but he wanted him out. The fact he was a ghost was the least of his worries.
“You know, I left you that money because I hoped you’d use it to make something of yourself,” he continued. “I worried you never would, but I hoped you would make me proud. You have a wife to care for now. You’re old enough to start thinking about children and raising a family of your own. You could’ve used that money to make sure you had a decent footing to start off with. You could’ve ripped up the mess you’ve piled up so far and built a new, sturdier foundation. This was your chance at redemption.
“Instead, you squandered it on a bed and breakfast of all things.” He scoffed and Ezra felt like a child again, wilting under his father’s disapproval. He wanted to run and hide under his bed, though he knew his father would expect him to take it like a man. “An old one at that, in the mountains like some poetic soul. You bought a house people were murdered in. What were you thinking?”
“It’s Clara’s dream,” Ezra replied. “She’s always wanted to own something like this, and I love the freedom it gives me to cook. We love it here. We’re building the kind of life we want. The kind of life that’ll make us happy, even if it won’t make you proud.”
He wanted his father to be proud of him more than anything, but he had given up on that dream long ago. Now he simply wanted him to leave him alone. He needed him to keep his judgements to himself.
“You don’t always have to give into your wife,” his father argued. “Sure, you love her and that’s fine. You should give her the best in life, and you should do what you can to make her dreams come true. It’s your duty as a husband to provide for her in every way possible.
“However, it’s also your duty to keep a good head on your shoulders. You shouldn’t give into her every whim. Especially if it’s something as stupid and careless as this. Sometimes you must say no for the good of your family. I know
you have a backbone; you could’ve used it.”
“I’ve learned to,” Ezra said, keeping Clara’s insight in mind. “In fact, I’m standing up to you now and putting up a boundary. We’re going to live our lives how we see fit. I appreciate the money you left me, but you left it to me. It’s up to me and my wife to decide how to use it, and this is an investment I’m proud of. It’s one that’s going to give us the kind of future we want. It’s already adding happiness to our lives. Everything’s going just as planned, and I couldn’t be more certain that we made the right decision.”
“For now,” his father said. “It brings you happiness and all those warm feelings for now. But you don’t know what’s really here, Ezra. You can’t see the darkness in these walls like I can. I’m afraid you won’t until it’s too late.”
He genuinely looked afraid, and that was most unsettling of all. His father didn’t show emotions often. Ever since his wife died, when he did show an emotion it was always anger or frustration. Fear wasn’t something he’d seen in his father for years now. He’d already faced his greatest fear and turned to stone because of it.
“You’ve awakened something dangerous in this house,” his father warned. “You’ve been messing with things you don’t understand. You’re so careless, so ignorant. Hell, I don’t even fully know what’s going on right now. But I do know you’re in trouble. You and Clara are in danger, and it’s up to you as her husband to keep her safe. It’s up to you to get your family out of this mess.”
“What do you mean?” Ezra asked. He was frantic now. He’d had that sense of danger for the last couple of days. What if his father was right? What if they made a mistake? What if he put Clara in danger?
If his father could come back as a ghost, that meant ghosts had to be real. It meant there could be ghosts living in the house with them. It meant there could be ghosts turning off lights, turning up burners. Watching. Waiting. For what?
