The Haunting of Willow House

by Anthony M. Strong

  “What’s wrong, Mr. Whelan?” Becca asked. “Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?”

  “I don’t think so.” He shook his head.

  “Can I have it?” Jake asked.

  “Sure. Knock yourself out.” He turned and hurried from the room. When he reached the den, he closed the door and stood there. The image of Becca was still in his head, only now he could not shake her chilling prediction, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing letting her stay at the house while he was gone. But in the end, what choice did he have?

  Chapter 49

  “I can’t believe Dad’s going to New York.” Sarah was cleaning away the breakfast dishes, stacking them in the new dishwasher Andrew had installed a few weeks before they moved in.

  “Why?” Becca hovered near the table, watching Jake finish up the last of the food. “What’s the big deal?”

  “After everything you heard that priest say yesterday, you want to be alone here, in this house?”

  “I won’t be alone, will I?” Becca said. “You will be here, and so will Jake.”

  “What did you hear yesterday?” Jake asked between mouthfuls of egg.

  “Nothing. Grown up stuff, that’s all,” Sarah replied. “Now hurry up and finish your food so that I can wash the plates.”

  “I don’t see why you have to be the boss.” Jake pulled a face. “Mom could be in charge.”

  “Mom’s dead, Jake.” Sarah turned and leaned her back on the counter. “Surely you didn’t forget.”

  “I know she’s dead.”

  “Then how can she be in charge, dummy?” Sarah asked.

  “I speak to her.”

  “We all do, Jake. I talk to her every night before I go to sleep,” Sarah said. She felt overcome with a sudden pang of sadness. Her throat tightened, and she turned away so that the others wouldn’t see the tear that meandered down her cheek.

  “I don’t mean inside my head,” Jake said, pushing his empty plate away. “I talk to her on the telephone.”

  “You don’t have a phone.” Sarah scooped up the last plate from the table, deposited it in the dishwasher.

  “I do too.” Jake pouted his lips, scrunching them up. “I found it when we moved in.”

  “Ah, I see.” The old rotary dial. Sarah wondered if it was healthy for him to be pretending their mother was on the other end of a phone that hadn’t worked in thirty years. It didn’t seem right, but if it helped Jake deal with the loss, who was she to judge? After all, it wasn’t long ago that she was lying in a hospital bed with a belly full of pills. This seemed like a tame coping mechanism in contrast. “Well, next time you speak to her on the telephone, make sure she knows I’m in charge, okay.”

  “I don’t think she’ll like that.” Jake wriggled off the chair. He walked to the door, paused. “She isn’t like she was before.”

  Chapter 50

  Andrew slipped his laptop into the small carry on bag he’d packed the night before with the essentials for his trip - underwear, a clean pair of pants, two shirts. He coiled the power cable, pushing it into the front pocket along with his phone charger. As he did so, his eyes skipped to the bottle of vodka sitting on the desk. He couldn’t leave that out in the open. If Sarah were to come in to the den for any reason, she would see it and assume he was drinking again. Not that it wasn’t true, but she could never understand the magic bottle, would not believe it to be the same one she’d poured away, the same one he had tried to pour down the drain even before that.

  He slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up the bottle, then left the room, closing the door behind him, and hurrying down to the first floor hallway.

  The girls were still in the kitchen; he could hear them moving about, talking. It sounded like Sarah was loading the dishwasher, which surprised him. She didn’t normally take responsibility for anything.

  He had intended to hide the bottle in the cabinet under the sink, a place his daughter was most unlikely to ever look, but now he must modify his plan. The basement was right there. It would be a perfect place to deposit the bottle until he returned. Even better, there was no way Sarah would set foot in it after the last time. Her over active imagination had finally worked in his favor.

  He put the bag down near the front entry, went to the basement door, eased it open as quietly as he could, and flicked the light switch. The darkness receded below him as the light came on. He stepped inside and walked down the steps, his footfalls making the old wood groan and complain. It sounded loud enough that Sarah might hear it from the kitchen, but he knew that was unlikely. Still, he felt better when he reached the bottom.

  He stood for a moment, eyes scanning the filthy space. Cobwebs hung from low rafters, and here and there he saw a spider waiting for some hapless insect to drift too near.

  The basement was mostly empty, save for the washer and dryer and a large rack near the stairs that was cluttered with all sorts of paint cans and boxes. But in the far corner stood a battered old hutch, its wood chipped and dark with age. He made his way over to it, pulled on the brass handles attached to the double doors. At first nothing happened, and he wondered if it was locked, but he didn’t see a keyhole. So the hinges must be seized. No surprise there; it had been under the house, untouched for thirty years.

  He gave it another tug, harder this time. The hutch rocked on uneven legs, and Andrew briefly wondered if it was going to come crashing forward on top of him, but then the doors gave way with a sharp crack, the decades old seal broken, and they swung wide.

  He stepped back as a gust of foul air, reeking of chemicals and rot, belched from the cabinet’s interior. When he stepped close again, he saw three shelves lined with an assortment of old cans, mostly paint, and a few bottles, their labels browned and unreadable. One bottle oozed a thick gelatinous gunk through a broken cap. This would all need cleaning out, but right now it provided a perfect hiding place.

  He pushed aside the contents of the top shelf, shuddering as a fat spider, belly bloated and bulbous, scuttled back out of sight. When he returned he would be coming down here with a can of insect killer, but right now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

  He reached up and tucked the vodka bottle almost to the rear of the shelf, then slid the rusted cans back across to hide it.

  Job done, he made his way back across the basement and climbed the stairs. As he reached the top, there was a faint clink from down below. He turned, his eyes scouring the empty basement, but there was no clue to the origin of the noise. Deciding it was a bottle shifting in the newly disturbed cabinet, he switched off the light and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door.

  He glanced at his watch.

  It was time to leave for the airport. He could still hear Sarah and Becca in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones, which they did a lot. Jake was, no doubt, already upstairs in his room.

  Andrew climbed to the second floor and hurried along the corridor. When he opened Jake’s door, his son was sitting in the middle of the floor, the old phone up to his ear.

  Andrew watched for a moment, befuddled that Jake found the antiquated device so fascinating, and then caught his son’s attention.

  “I’m off to the airport,” he said. “Behave for your sister.”

  Jake nodded, never taking the phone from his ear.

  “Love you, son.” He waited for a response, but Jake had turned his attention back to the phone, was now listening intently to something only he could hear in the receiver. Andrew wondered if he should take the phone away; it was unhealthy to be so fixated. Imaginary friends were fine, but something about the way Jake listened to what could only be silence made Andrew shudder. He took a step into the room, thought better of it, and beat a hasty retreat. There would be time to deal with Jake’s weird obsession after the trip. The last thing he wanted was a tantrum right when he needed to leave.

  Downstairs, Andrew went to the kitchen. Sarah, near the sink, looked up when he entered.

  “I’m off,” Andrew said.
“Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, and no boys in the house, understand?”

  “Where are we going to find boys out here?” Sarah pulled a face.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Whelan, we’re just going to hang out and watch TV, maybe go to the mall.”

  “Make sure Jake sits in the back and wears a seatbelt if you go out.”

  “We will.” Becca grinned. “Have a good trip.”

  “I’ll try.” Andrew said. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I know.” Sarah nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Andrew turned and walked to the front door. It was windy outside, a line of dark clouds gathering beyond the tree line. He went to the car, popped open the trunk, and heaved his bag inside. He pulled the driver's side door open, was about to climb in, when Becca appeared at the front door.

  “You forgot this.” She waved a wallet in the air, jogged over to him.

  “Thanks.” He took the wallet and pushed it into his pocket. “Wouldn’t have gotten far without that.”

  “My pleasure.” She spun around, started back to the house.

  “Wait.” Andrew followed her. “Can I have a moment?”

  “Sure, Mr. Whelan.” Becca came to a halt. “You don’t need to worry. We’ll take good care of Jake, and I promise we won’t get into any trouble.”

  “It’s not that.” He rubbed his hands together. “About last night…”

  “Forget about it,” Becca said, her face flushing. “It was an accident, totally my fault, I shouldn’t have screamed.”

  “No, I mean afterward.”

  “Afterward?” Becca looked perplexed. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “In the den. I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did.” Andrew felt a bead of sweat push down the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to think-“

  “Mr. Whelan, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Becca interrupted. “The den?”

  “The den. You came to see me later on, after the shower incident.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She shook her head.

  “Becca, you came to me, offered me… things.”

  “Are you feeling alright, Mr. Whelan?” Becca said. “You look a little flushed, and you aren’t making any sense.”

  “Look, if you want to pretend it didn’t happen, that’s fine, but…”

  “I swear, I don’t know what you are talking about.” Becca shook her head. “What am I supposed to have done?”

  “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” Andrew didn’t know why, but he had the feeling that Becca really had no recollection of coming to him, seducing him. “Don’t worry about it. Not important.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Becca threw him a quizzical look, then turned and walked back to the house.

  Andrew waited until she disappeared inside and then climbed into the car, but even then he sat there a while, going over the events of the previous evening in his head. Eventually, unable to make any sense of it, he pushed the key into the ignition. Whatever was going on with Becca, he would figure it out after the trip.

  Chapter 51

  Sarah stood at the dining room window and looked out. Her dad was talking to Becca on the driveway. She couldn’t figure out why, but at breakfast she had sensed a weird vibe between the two of them. She felt it again now as they conversed.

  When Becca turned back toward the house, Sarah stepped away from the window. “What was all that about?” She asked when Becca appeared through the door.

  “What?” Becca replied. “Your dad forgot his wallet, left it on the counter.”

  “I know that.” Sarah hesitated, then pressed on. “Dad was acting weird around you today.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Becca said. “You’re imagining things.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I do think so.” Becca took Sarah’s arm, tugged. “We have the house to ourselves for two days. Aren’t there better things to do then talk about your dad?”

  “We don’t have it completely to ourselves. There’s Jake.” Sarah countered, but even so the realization hit her all at once. They were free from adult supervision for almost forty-eight hours. They could do whatever they wanted. And then another thought struck her. They would be alone in the house all night, defenseless if whatever was hiding in the shadows, and Sarah was pretty sure it was Martha Ward, decided to play tricks. This filled her with a cold dread.

  “So what?” Becca was steering Sarah toward the stairs now. “He’s a good enough kid. As long as we make sure to feed him three times a day, he’ll be fine.”

  “He’s not a cat.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “You do know that, right?”

  “All I’m saying is that he isn’t going to have any interest in hanging out with us. He won’t care what we do as long as we let him do his thing.”

  “I shudder to think what his thing might be,” Sarah said, although she suspected that he would be playing with that creepy phone again. He was obsessed with it these days. She shuddered, thinking of him sitting there, the phone between his crossed legs, the earpiece thrust up against the side of his head as he whispered into it, just quiet enough that no one could hear what he was saying. She forced her mind from the thought, changed the subject. “So what do you suggest we do?”

  “We could have a sleepover.” Becca grinned.

  “You’re already staying here.”

  “Not me, stupid.” Becca glanced around, made sure Jake was nowhere in sight. “Tyler.”

  “No way.” Sarah shook her head. “That is such a bad idea.”

  “Why?” Becca met Sarah’s gaze. “You said he came to see you the other day. He still likes you.”

  “We’re not together anymore,” Sarah said. “Besides, Dad would kill me if he knew we had a boy over.”

  “Who’s going to tell him?”

  “Well, Jake, for one.”

  “Please. We can handle that squirt.” Becca snorted. “Surely you know something he doesn’t want your dad to find out about.”

  “Not really.” Sarah shook her head. “I don’t pay that much attention to him.”

  “Shame.” Becca thought for a moment, then her face lit up. “I know, we can sneak Tyler in after Jake goes to sleep.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun,” Becca pleaded. “Besides, if anything happens, there will be someone else here to protect us.”

  “What would happen?” Sarah asked. “You think someone is going to break in here or something? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “No, I mean with the ghost.”

  “We don’t even know that there is a ghost,” Sarah said.

  “I know that some weird crap has been happening. What about the cellar? The woods?”

  “There could be…”

  “Please don’t say there could be a reasonable explanation,” Becca said. “You saw that strange wind, we both did, and I swear, there was someone out there with us. And how do you explain the Ouija board?”

  “I don’t know, okay?” Sarah didn’t want to talk about it. She was scared enough, without Becca pushing the point home. If she didn’t think about it, she could pretend that nothing strange was happening, but only if Becca cooperated. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Fine. But first, tell me you will call Tyler.”

  “I’m not calling Tyler.”

  “Why not?” Becca pleaded. “It’ll be fun.”

  “For who?”

  “Please, I know you still like him, and he is crazy about you.”

  “So?”

  “So tell him to come here tonight.”

  “Alright. Anything to shut you up.” Sarah threw her arms up. “But on one condition.”

  “What is it?” Becca leaned against the wall, her arms folded.

  “You have to invite Logan.” Sarah grinned. There was no way Becca would ask the boy she’d pined for the whole of her junior year, especially since they’d only gone on on
e real date, at least as far as she knew.

  “I can’t. Come on, not fair.” Becca shook her head.

  “Hey, if you want me to invite Tyler, you have to invite Logan.”

  “Sarah—”

  “Three’s a crowd.”

  “And four is even more of a crowd,” Becca replied.

  “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

  “Fine. I’m texting him now.” Becca pulled out her phone. She tapped out a message on the screen, then glared at Sarah. “Happy?”

  “Yep.” Sarah took her own phone out and found Tyler’s number. As she typed, her fingers flying over the virtual keyboard, she felt a sudden tingle of anticipation. Maybe their night alone wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Chapter 52

  At eight o’clock that evening Tyler’s blue Mustang pulled off the road and drove up to the house, followed by a light colored Toyota that Sarah assumed must be Logan. As instructed, they pulled to the far side of the building and parked under a stand of birch trees, far away from Jake’s bedroom window, where the young boy might see the cars and start asking awkward questions.

  Sarah met them at the door, ushering them in with a whispered warning to keep quiet until they got to the attic bedroom. Jake was nowhere to be found, having already scoffed down a plate of chicken nuggets Becca had found in the freezer and heated up in the microwave. After that, he scurried from the room, feet stomping as he ran up to the second floor. A final thud announced the fact that he was back in his room. Sarah would have to make sure he went to bed at a reasonable time, but first there was Tyler to take care of.

  “This place is even creepier from the inside,” Tyler whispered as they made their way up to Sarah’s room.

  “It’s much better than it was a few months ago,” Sarah replied as they reached the attic. “You should have seen the state it was in. There was even a hole in the roof.”