by Hazel Holmes
“I don’t think I can say it any clearer. Someone’s after you, and you’re locked in this battle now. You shouldn’t have come here in the first place, but I don’t think fleeing will help anymore.
“Arm yourself, be vigilant, keep Clara safe, and don’t trust anyone but her. As disappointed as I am in you, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you or Clara. I want to think I raised you right enough to be a man and take care of any threats. You still have a chance to change this. You still have time to rise up into the person I know you can be.”
Ezra’s pride and hopes were smashed. He felt inadequate, useless. He always felt like a disappointment to his father, still, it always hurt when he said it out loud like this. But if there truly was danger, he would protect Clara from it. They would tackle it together. No matter how his father viewed their roles, it was always best when they did things together.
His father’s figure was fading, melting into the stones of the fireplace. There wasn’t much time left and Ezra wasn’t broken-hearted about that. He wouldn’t try to convince him to stay. He wouldn’t even attempt to fight fate.
“I…” his father looked away, his voice growing gruffer. “I do love you, you know.”
Ezra was so shocked he couldn’t respond. It was more surprising than seeing a ghost or hearing how disappointed his father was in him. I love yous from his father were rarer than displays of emotion. He hadn’t heard it in years, and it convinced him this couldn’t be real. His father wouldn’t tell him he loved him, would he?
Before he could respond, his father faded away, leaving him questioning his sanity and his safety.
18
Despite how much Ezra tried to avoid waking Clara up, his tossing and turning all night hadn’t gone unnoticed. She wasn’t up quite as much as he was, but he woke her periodically and she was worried about how restless her husband was getting. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t want him to feel bad. When she woke though, she decided to do whatever she could to make his day a little smoother. He needed to cut down on some of the stress, for both of their sakes.
She got up as quietly as possible as to not disturb his slumber. It looked like he was finally at least somewhat peaceful, a state which had taken him far too long to attain. She crept across the floor and shut the door behind her. Then, she went into the kitchen to work a little magic of her own.
Even though Ezra was the cook of the house, Clara was rather good in the kitchen herself. She got to work on breakfast and Ezra’s favorite, a mocha latte. She knew he’d have a long day ahead of him, so she kept it at least somewhat healthy with homemade oats, fresh fruit, and a veggie omelet.
She was grateful she had taken the time to cook for him once he walked down the stairs. His hair was a mess, eyes red with exhaustion. His clothes were rumpled, and he was slumped in defeat. He looked even more drained than she imagined he would.
“Something smells delicious,” he said as he joined her in the kitchen. He yawned as she turned to hug him and followed it up with a kiss.
“Just for you,” she said. “I know you had a long night and I want to do whatever I can to make your day a little easier. You need to find ways to relax. I think the stress is getting to you.”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted. She handed him his latte then got back to work.
As Ezra watched her, he became absorbed in his thoughts about his father and the frightening night he had. Having been removed from the situation for a little while, he had started to question himself and his sanity.
Was he hallucinating? Was he dreaming? That was the only possible explanation. Ghosts weren’t real, his father couldn’t have come back simply to scold him. Though he found it fun to entertain elaborate and fantastical ideas when he was reading, he never genuinely believed in that kind of thing. He was grounded in reality. He knew it couldn’t be true.
But it felt so real in a way other dreams hadn’t. He could recall his father’s exact features in their ghostly haze, the colors of the room, his distinct voice. It was just like a fully formed memory with nothing to distinguish it from the other things he’d done in his day-to-day life.
The only thing that made him question if it was real was the impossible nature of it all. His father was dead. He couldn’t have talked to him. Despite what he knew though, he couldn’t process it as something that wasn’t real. It was too real. Too difficult to get out of his head.
Dreaming would’ve been the most favorable explanation, though it would’ve been a particularly vivid dream on the scale of which he hadn’t experienced yet. Hallucinating… Well, it’d be better than being visited by an actual ghost, but not by much.
Was he so stressed he started hallucinating? Ezra hated to even consider it, but he had no choice. Perhaps it was time to see a doctor. Perhaps he needed to make more of an effort to relax and work on his mental health. Perhaps his father had come back as a ghost.
No.
He grabbed some plates and set the table as he considered if he should tell Clara about seeing his father. He told her about the troubling thoughts he had so far, but this went beyond feeling like his father was watching him. The two could be kind of connected. It made sense that one thought might lead to the other, but having an odd feeling was a giant leap away from actually seeing your dead father. What would she think of him?
She’d think he was crazy. Of course, she’d think he was crazy and he still couldn’t get everything his father said out of his head. He had made it clear he thought Ezra hadn’t been the greatest husband to Clara so far, that he hadn’t protected her, he made a horrible choice in coming here. What if his father was right? What if Ezra was a terrible husband?
It was one of his greatest worries. He wanted to be the best man he could be for her, but she deserved a man who wasn’t seeing his dead father, who wasn’t losing his mind. He wanted to be strong for her, well for her. He didn’t want her to see him as a weak, vulnerable, unstable man. He didn’t want her to see him like his father saw him.
“Thanks for setting the table,” Clara said as she brought the food out. Sunlight stretched through the windows, reminding Ezra he was awake now. It was a beautiful day. No ghosts were going to grab him, and they were living the best life. They were working towards a great future.
“Thank you for cooking.” Ezra kissed her and some of the fear faded. They were together, no matter what. He knew nothing he could tell her would drive her away. Though he wasn’t so sure that it wouldn’t change how she saw him. Certainly, there were things that could change how she felt about him.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “I know you have a lot to do today, but I want you to at least try to take it somewhat easy. I know losing your father, starting a new business, and moving has all been a lot on you. I’m sure you’re tired and stressed. I don’t want you to get burnt out or overwhelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, okay? I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, though her words unsettled him. How much did she know? It seemed she was aware of what happened last night, though there was no way she could be. Unless… had she seen the ghost too?
He hoped she had. It would make everything so much easier if he weren’t in this alone. Maybe she saw him at a different time and was just waiting to see if Ezra would bring it up. Then they could talk about it together. Deal with this together.
They sat at their table, now covered with a black lace tablecloth that went well with the grey walls. Clara wanted to paint them purple to add some color against the dark floor. As she reached for some fruit, her mind went wild with all the renovation ideas she had in mind. They’d put in old-fashioned candle holders on the walls that would go perfectly with their black antique china cabinet. When guests joined them for breakfast, they’d be transported back to an earlier era romanticized for their benefit.
She was distracted, she didn’t notice Ezra shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Thoughts of renovations were far from his mind. Ghosts didn’t leave room for any other sp
eculations and dreams.
“Where is all this coming from though?” Ezra asked hesitantly, bringing Clara back to their conversation. “I just got up. I haven’t mentioned being overwhelmed or anything.”
Clara blushed as she looked down at her breakfast. It looked like she had been caught in something. Ezra’s hopes soared unrealistically. She knew, she had to know. He didn’t have to worry about telling her because she already knew. That’s how in sync they were.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just noticed last night you seemed to be having trouble sleeping…”
Of course. Hope fell as he realized he probably had kept her up all night thanks to his tossing and turning. She hadn’t seen the ghost of his father, only he had seen that. If he had seen that. Now that was the real problem. Had he seen what he thought he saw? Should he tell her?
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to talk this through with someone. He wanted someone to understand, and he typically told her everything. Clara was his best friend. But he cared about her opinion more than anyone else’s and that made it most difficult.
“Did I keep you up?” he asked, buying a bit of time.
“Not really,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
“I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I tried to relax before bed, but you’re right. It’s all been a lot.”
“I know it has been, but I’m here for you. Today’s going to be better.” She took his hand, kissed it.
When he smiled, Clara finally noticed something was off. She couldn’t quite narrow down exactly what it was. She just had this odd feeling that something else was bothering Ezra. The look on his face made it seem like he was holding something back. The way he diverted his gaze looked like something on his mind was making him incredibly uncomfortable.
“Is there something else there?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just assuming what caused your sleepless night, what’s contributing to all this stress, but is there something I’m missing? I obviously can’t read your mind, so what’s going on up there?”
She sat there, so willing to listen, and Ezra desperately wanted someone to talk to. Yet he was so afraid. He was afraid of hallucinating. Afraid of seeing ghosts. He was afraid of not being the kind of husband Clara deserved.
“It’s just been tough,” he admitted.
“How so?”
“Well, like you said before, there’s been a lot going on and… I don’t know. The feeling that my father is watching me… I think it’s strengthened, maybe due to the pressure. It’s evolved into something else. Something more solid and tangible.”
Clara could see Ezra was trying to communicate something to her underneath his layered words, but she couldn’t fully understand. Something was making him horribly uncomfortable. She’d never seen him quite like this and she wanted to do anything she could to help.
His spiral lately was concerning. His mental health was certainly taking a hit. But she was a little bit at a loss at what to do or how to help. It seemed so rapid and out of nowhere, she couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on.
“Ezra, what do you mean?” she asked. “I’m here for you, okay? No matter what. You can talk to me about it. I just want to help you.”
They looked at each other, wanting to bridge the gap. It was scarier for Ezra than even seeing his father was.
“This might sound crazy,” he admitted. “But I… I saw my father last night.”
19
Silence followed as Clara tried to think of the right things to say. Fear followed. Ezra couldn’t have seen his father. His father was dead. But he looked terrified, which terrified Clara. Either he truly believed he saw his father, which meant his mental health was even worse than Clara feared, or he realized how crazy this was and didn’t know what to do about it.
Clara didn’t know what to do about it. She was usually so in tune with her husband. They were similar enough that typically they knew how to best support each other. But this was a private struggle she couldn’t quite relate to.
“What do you mean?” she asked slowly. “Like, you had a dream about him or…”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I uh… I guess it could’ve been a dream. It had to be, right? I know he’s dead, I get that. But it didn’t feel like a dream. It… it couldn’t have been a dream. I’ve never had a dream so realistic before. So much like a memory.”
Ezra paused. He was convinced it wasn’t a dream. He knew he saw his father. He knew how Clara would react, but he couldn’t pretend that he thought it wasn’t real. As irrational as he knew it appeared from the outside, he had seen his father. He cast away the mask and decided to take the plunge into the truth.
“I know it’s crazy, but I saw my father last night in our living room. I spoke to him and he told me he was disappointed which, of course he did. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.”
Though that wasn’t entirely true. He was still surprised a ghost would use the time they had to talk to their child to tell them how disappointed they were.
“He also told me I made a mistake in getting this bed and breakfast,” Ezra continued. “He said we were in danger or something. Like there’s things going on we don’t know about and can’t comprehend yet.
“Maybe he was just trying to make me feel bad, make me regret coming here. It does seem like something he’d do. It makes sense he’d be upset with me for spending the money on this place when it doesn’t fit the kind of lifestyle he preferred to live. He would be the kind of person who’d try to bully me into making a different decision. Maybe he was lying.
“However, it was odd because he said there was no way out now. And if his goal was purely to change my mind, you’d think he’d tell me to leave immediately. He didn’t say we should sell the place or anything, and he seemed genuine about his worry. Especially near the end of our conversation.”
Ezra thought about the I love you. It really hadn’t seemed like his father was there solely to scold him. He wasn’t great with emotions or dealing with his children in a kind manner, but it didn’t seem like he was there solely to be cruel.
“I don’t know,” Ezra shrugged. “It got to me, obviously. And I worry because it seemed like more than a scare tactic. It seemed like the insults were an afterthought. Like he was there genuinely to warn me, and I worry we made a huge mistake in coming here. I worry I put you at risk.”
Clara was at a loss as she looked at her husband, who was clearly shaken up by all of this. He was caught trying to figure out if his father was bluffing or if there was something to be worried about, and she couldn’t relate at all. His dilemma was absurd to her. It didn’t really matter what his father’s intentions were because there was no way he had actually spoken to Ezra. He was dead. She wasn’t sure how to get this across to her husband without sounding rude or making him feel bad.
“You didn’t put us at risk,” she assured him, deciding to confront the easiest thing first. “I wanted to come here just as much as you did. Despite your father’s old-fashioned notions, we’re a team. We have equal say in what we do. We’re meant to protect each other, take care of each other. If anything does go wrong, it’s on both of us, not just you.
“I don’t foresee things going wrong here though. It’s a beautiful property with great prospects. We’re doing everything we can to set up a great opening night and if we work hard, we can make this a success.
“Sure, it’s unfortunate and unnerving that children were killed here. But we don’t have a connection to them. We’re not going to be targeted the same way. There’s no need for us to worry. We’re safe here.”
Ezra could see where she was coming from. Clara was being rational, reasonable, and that’s exactly how he wanted to be. It was a bit more difficult to convince himself of that though. Something deeper protested.
“I know that,” he said. “But what if… what if the house is haunted? What if it’s a place that’s particularly prone to
allowing spirits to… I don’t know, interact with the world of the living in some capacity. That could be why I saw my father. And if he’s able to materialize here, what if there are other spirits in the house?
“I obviously don’t know how all this works, or even if it’s plausible. But if this house is a hotbed for spirits, it could be allowing less pleasant ones to break through. What if a spirit was messing with the light and the stove? What if a spirit did get into Lyla and Richard’s minds? They could’ve influenced them to kill their children and…”
Ezra couldn’t continue because that thought terrified him most. Though he didn’t believe in the paranormal, he’d seen plenty of movies, and seeing his father had opened his mind a little to the possibility that something abnormal was going on in the house.
If there was a spirit within these walls that could influence people, well, Clara was keeping a level head about her. She hadn’t mentioned seeing or experiencing anything unusual. Ezra had encountered a few strange occurrences so far. He was stressed and on edge. If a spirit were going to choose a target, it would be him.
He couldn’t even imagine ever harming his wife, but a small part of him worried that the evil spirits might try to influence him to do something awful. Even if they didn’t use him, his father seemed to be suggesting there were plenty of ways they could be harmed. Ezra was facing an invisible enemy, and the thought of losing everything was too much to bear.
“Ezra, sweetie, I understand you’re worried but…” Clara tried to think of the right words to say, but it didn’t seem being understanding and empathetic was helping. He couldn’t be allowed to continue believing this. Letting Brittany excuse everything away with ghosts was one thing, but allowing her husband’s mind to run wild was clearly causing some huge problems.
“I know seeing your father’s ghost was terrifying but…” she looked into his eyes, wild with fear. “I’m going to put it bluntly; there’s no way you saw him. Ghosts aren’t real. I don’t want to invalidate your fears or discount what you saw, but it must’ve been a nightmare. You were tossing and turning a lot last night. Sometimes dreams can seem so real it’s hard to fathom they aren’t real. But it’s not real. Your father is dead, and he didn’t come back.
