by G. F. Frost
The Haunting of Lovesong House
By
G.F.Frost
Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
www.damnationbooks.com
The Haunting of Lovesong House
by G.F.Frost
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-618-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-619-6
Cover art by: Dawné Dominique
Edited by: Alison O’Byrne
Copyright 2012 G.F.Frost
Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
1st North American, Australian and UK Print Rights
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to my loving husband who has always believed in me and who brings love and laughter into my life, and to my darling daughter who taught me how to love unconditionally. They continually support my life long journey into night.
I wish to acknowledge all my family and friends who have tirelessly endured my outlandish imagination and personality throughout the years.
Chapter One
Why were the dreams tonight so horrifying? There were terrible visions of blood and bones and specters floating around her in the darkness. Most of Massey’s dreams didn’t move her in one way or another, but these, these were different. Perhaps it was sleeping the last few nights in a hotel room or the stress from looking for a home. Something was on her mind. Placing her robe around her shoulders, she walked to the window and looked out over the city. New Orleans seemed to smile at night. It was hot, humid, and sleepy during the day but nighttime brought the city to life. The bad dreams left her mind as she walked onto the balcony and listened to the music echoing down the streets of the Quarter.
Moving didn’t bother Massey at all. She had been moving around a lot lately. Her husband’s job with the oil company took them from Texas to London and back, but now they were in the States once again, and she was thrilled to get back to Louisiana. There is just something about the balmy days and swampy bayous with their Spanish moss and chirping frogs. She loved the laid-back attitudes of the people she left behind years ago when they were younger and prosperity was guiding them.
After moving around from city to city, it was now a good time to settle in somewhere for a while. She wouldn’t miss the hustle and bustle of Houston and London. A slow-paced life in a small town was just what Massy was yearning for. Very soon, her life would become anything but slow paced. Her life was about to be thrown into a whirlwind, one she could never have imagined.
Now that she and her husband were empty nesters, it was time to find herself again, whatever that meant. She only knew that she wanted to go back, back home, back to where she was born and had grown up. Even though Theo was taking the promotion in New Orleans, she knew he wouldn’t live there. He enjoyed a big city more than she did, but New Orleans was more her style than his. They’d have to live outside the city. She didn’t mind. She would be closer to family and friends than she’d been in years, and she knew that the people in Louisiana were almost always welcoming and warm.
So began the daunting job of visiting homes with their realtor every weekend. While Theo showed more excitement over the new homes in the suburbs, Massey wanted a home that felt “lived in,” one with some character all its own, the feel that came only with some age. The job of touring the homes was monotonous. Theo knew they’d be in this home for many years, perhaps the rest of their lives, and he wanted comfort and ease of upkeep. Massey didn’t know what she wanted; she would know it when it felt right.
All the homes began to look and feel the same, brick and wood, granite and stainless steel. All were nice, some were lovely, but none was “right”. The new subdivisions seemed so typical, and the homes so cookie cutter, one after the other of the same general plan with only a minor change here and there. Pretty, landscaped lawns, brand new little trees, and SUVs in every drive, was not Massey’s idea of interesting.
Theo was beginning to lose faith that they’d ever find the right home, but little did he know that fate would play its hand. After weeks of viewing the available homes of south Louisiana, their realtor made a suggestion. He suggested showing them a very large old home about an hour from New Orleans, down the old River Road. For the first time, Massey’s interest peaked, but the pictures didn’t impress Theo in the least.
“It looks a bit too large and isolated to me, honey,” he said to Massey as he noticed the smile on her face when she saw the photos.
“What harm can looking do at this point?” she asked.
Theo nodded hesitantly. He knew that there was no need to discuss it further. Massey had her mind set. He had learned that long ago. If twenty-something years of marriage had taught him anything, it was to give in when she had her mind made up. There was no arguing. The appointment was set, and they would see the old, out of the way home on Saturday.
Even though Massey spent the next two days searching the internet for homes in or near the New Orleans area, she wasn’t in the least bit interested in seriously inquiring. The big house in the country had her name on it and until she saw it and ruled it out, nothing else seemed an option. The houses in the Garden District were large, old, and majestic, but Theo would whine too much about living in the city. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
Mister Simmons, the realtor, was waiting in his car outside his office with a half-eaten biscuit in his hand as Theo and Massey drove into the parking lot.
“Jump in, John. We’ll take our vehicle today,” Theo said as he rolled down his car window.
The engine started, and off the three drove down the steamy highway from New Orleans towards the River Road.
The conversation among the three of them was the same as it had been for weeks, the weather, work, and ball games, nothing Massey cared about at all. It made the drive pass more quickly, though, and she enjoyed the sights along the way. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight as she looked ahead towards the enormous lake. The Pontchartrain Bridge spanned the lake, stretching endlessly before them. Men in boats dotted the muddy water, and cranes swooped across the waves, dipping occasionally after their prey. Massey rested her head on the headrest and wondered if this would be the one.
After a little over an hour, they were exiting for the River Road.
“Only a little further now,” Mister Simmons said.
Massey sat up and looked towards the road ahead. The wooded countryside was inviting. Little wooden homes and barns were scattered here and there, and pastures peeked through the wooded areas where horses and cattle grazed lazily. This seemed a lifetime away from any city. As they drove past an old produce stand, a man stood up from his bench and waved. The three immediately raised their hands and waved back to the man. It seemed like a different world.
“Just up here on the left,” Mister Simmons said, pointing in the direction he wanted Theo to take.
The car made its way onto a long graveled driveway. Enormous oaks dripping in Spanish moss formed a shady tunnel over the drive. Massey took a deep breath.
“This is lovely!” she said as she strained to see the house before her.
The building see
med to slowly emerge from behind the bending oaks to show itself to them. A large white house with dark Italianate ironwork stood majestically before them. The porches on both stories seemed to wrap completely around the home. Azaleas and hydrangeas formed clouds of deep pinks and purples along the walk to the front door. Massey could hear the sound of the gravel under the tires as they pulled up to the house.
“Oh, Theo!” Massey exclaimed. “How wonderful!”
“It is big,” Theo replied, “a lot of upkeep and repairs.”
“Don’t say anything negative until we’ve seen it, Theo,” she snapped.
As they stepped out of the car and onto the long porch, Massey noticed a sweet aroma blowing across them.
“You smell those camellias? Boy, that reminds me of my childhood. I haven’t smelled those in years,” Mister Simmons commented as he unlocked the huge front door.
Massey took a deep breath and breathed in the sweet fragrance once more before she entered. The foyer was dark and large with a wide curving staircase that seemed infinite. The dark oak floors were polished. On each side of the huge foyer were tall pocket doors opening into matching parlors. It was like walking back in time.
“Feels like you’re in an old movie,” Theo said, glancing around the rooms.
Massey hadn’t spoken a word since Mister Simmons opened the door. Her heart was pounding. She was trying to take in all before her. The ceilings were at least twelve-feet tall, she thought. Everything was freshly painted. It was obvious that the mantels on the huge fireplaces were original and carved from marble. The crown molding was wide and carved with images of fruit and animals. The broad chandeliers were brass and crystal, hanging proudly from the plastered ceilings.
Massey couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Why would someone sell this place?” she asked.
“Well, from what I understand, the last owners were affected by the recent stock crash and are pushed to sell. This was just their weekend home anyway. I don’t think they even stayed many weekends during the years they had it,” Mister Simmons replied.
“What a shame,” Theo injected.
“They put a lot of money into this old house too,” Mister Simmons said. “They replaced the wiring throughout, updated the plumbing, refinished the floors, and repainted everything. Now, there are twenty additional acres for purchase with the house if you choose,” he added as he flipped through his binder and looked over the notes.
The kitchen was huge and a bit outdated but nothing Massey couldn’t work with. The back veranda was as large as the front, and six or eight wooden rockers sat lined along the façade. The back yard was large and shady revealing a view through a couple of the mossy trees to the farmland. On the side, hidden in a small grove of oaks was a cemetery surrounded by a rusty iron fence.
Theo and Massey stood on the back veranda and surveyed the sight.
“This is nice,” Theo said as he noticed the barn beyond the trees.
Massey smiled thinking Theo may be taking a liking to the place.
“May we go upstairs now?” Massey asked, opening the screen door to go back into the kitchen.
“After you.” Mister Simmons motioned for them to walk ahead of him into the house again.
A landing spread evenly in both directions at the top of the large staircase. Massey headed towards the left, and the three walked from room to room down the corridors until they had inspected every room.
“There is a floored attic and a basement, if you want to see them,” Mister Simmons offered.
“No need,” Massey replied. “Well, I’m in love. What do you think, Theo?” she asked as she wrinkled her nose and forehead.
“It’s a lot to take in. It’s beautiful, but so big and so far out of the way. It would need a lot of upkeep, I mean a lot. We really don’t need all of this. What would we do with all these rooms? I would sure have a good long drive each day.” Even as he spoke, Theo knew Massey would have replies for all his comments.
“Oh, Theo, it is absolutely calling me. I could work in the yard and grow herbs, and I would have all the room in the world for painting and my crafts. Think of the history of this place, it’s anyone’s dream home. We would have plenty of room when the family comes, and it’s been nearly all updated. Besides, your commute in London was much further.” Massey spoke as fast as she could to make her point.
Theo nodded. He had a dreaded feeling. He knew that his opinions were moot when it came to matters such as a home. He just nodded.
“We’ll talk about it, and we’ll keep it on the list,” he said, knowing that there really was no list.
Massey smiled and walked back into the master bedroom. She was already decorating the entire house in her mind, but she’d keep that to herself for now.
The ride back to New Orleans must have been grueling for the two men. Massey could not stop talking about the house. She went on and on about the style of it, the age of it, the attention to detail in all the woodwork and how people didn’t build houses like that anymore. She could not stop. Her mind was racing with ideas of how she saw her dreams coming true in a country home like that. Mister Simmons would chime in from time to time, but Theo never made a comment. She knew he would take a lot of convincing, but she had her heart set on the house.
* * * *
Sunday was hot and humid in New Orleans, but Massey and Theo ventured out of their hotel room long enough to take a stroll through the Quarter and grab and bite to eat. As hard as she tried, Massey could not help but bring up the house from time to time that day. Theo made good arguments against it, but it went in one ear and out the other. Before bedtime she had convinced Theo to let her make another trip to the house with the realtor early in the coming week.
While Theo began his new position in New Orleans and settled into his office, Massey and Mister Simmons traveled to the old house once again. Massey had a million questions and a lot to see. She took her time this trip. She walked and walked under the oaks surveying the grounds and looking in the old family cemetery. She moved limbs and brushed away leaves from each tombstone noting the names and dates. Inside the house, she went over every inch. She asked Mister Simmons every question that came to mind, and he patiently answered her, checking his notes to be as accurate as possible. As she walked into the upstairs bedrooms and opened every closet door, Mister Simmons checked his wristwatch from time to time.
“Who built it?” she asked as they walked back onto the front veranda.
“I think their name was Duseau. The man was from New Orleans and built it for his young bride. They lived here until their deaths and it remained in the family for years. It changed hands once or twice after that. He was a doctor and did some planting here also.” Simmons tried to remember as much as he could.
“Did they have slaves?” Massey asked sadly.
“No, I don’t think so. I think they must have had servants of some sort, though. He was quite a man of means during that time. I think some of the family may live around here still, or maybe in New Orleans, can’t remember,” he said as he checked his watch again.
“How interesting,” Massey replied.
“It was called Lovesong House,” he said.
“That’s even more interesting. Why was it called that?” Massey asked.
Mister Simmons shrugged his shoulders.
The two finally climbed back into Mister Simmons’ vehicle and began to drive away. Massey turned to look back through the oaks at the beautiful, lonely house. She thought to herself that the house needed a family. It needed to be filled with life again just as it must have been when the Duseaus lived there. She smiled.
“Why has this house not sold?” she asked, making notes for her husband on a small pad.
“Most people don’t want to live this far out, and if they do, they don’t have the money for a place like this,” Simmons said.
“Lovesong House. I like that name.”
“Yep, there are a lot of stories and history surrounding the old place,”
Simmons added.
“Really? I’d love to hear some,” Massey said excitedly.
“Well, I don’t know them that well. You’d have to find a local to fill you in. I’ve just heard that there’s an interesting history behind the place,” Mister Simmons replied, sounding uninterested.
The drive didn’t seem so long to Massey this time. She had been reading her notes and discussing questions with Mister Simmons. As they pulled into the realty office parking lot, Mister Simmons sighed as if relieved to be back and out of the grips of a wide-eyed female.
“Give me a call if you want to see it again. I will be in and out of the office the rest of the week, but Dorothy can make an appointment if necessary. I’ll be checking back with Theo to see where we are on the search sometime tomorrow.” Simmons helped Massey out of his car.
“Thank you so much, Mister Simmons,” Massey said as she waved to him and made her way to her vehicle. He returned the wave and entered his office.
Lovesong House, Massey thought to herself. She loved the name. Now, if she could only convince Theo to love the house as much as she did. She’d have to be as good a saleswoman as she could. Theo could be difficult to convince sometimes, but she knew that she always had a good chance of getting her way if she played his heartstrings. He loved to make her happy, so she had that going for her, and she knew it.
Days of talking about the house and pleading with Theo finally broke him, and he gave in to his wife. A part of him wanted the house as much as Massey. Mostly, he knew it would make her happy, and the male in him enjoyed the prospect of owning land in the country. Massey was beside herself. She immediately made calls to their daughter, family, and friends. She began to shop for furnishings and draperies. She was so happy to give the house a family once more.
* * * *
The closing didn’t take as long as they had expected, and Mister Simmons knew who to hand the keys to. Massey reached out her hand, and he dropped them directly into it without question. She smiled and pressed a firm kiss to Simmons’ cheek. He blushed.
