by Jill Bisker
Finding the Way Back
by Jill Bisker
Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
www.melange-books.com
Finding the Way Back, Copyright 2014 Jill Bisker
ISBN: 978-1-61235-909-0
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Design by Caroline Andrus
Table of Contents
"Finding the Way Back"
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
About the Author
Previews
FINDING THE WAY BACK
by Jill Bisker
Finding the Way Back is the story of Laney, a recently divorced woman who agrees to help her mother fix up her dead grandfather’s house. From the first night when she hears ghostly music to later physical attacks that seem targeted only at her, she soon discovers that a spirit in the house may have plans of its own. For her own well-being, she needs to find answers as the danger escalates and she learns to trust herself and others. With the help of her cousin Connie, an attractive ghosthunter named Emmett, and several other eccentric characters, Laney uncovers the dark secret of the house and a new path for her future.
To George, my dragon slayer
Chapter One
I set my suitcase down on the sidewalk and stopped to look up at the old dilapidated house. “It’s not quite the way I remember it, Mom.”
“It’s the same house that’s been here for eighty years, Laney. The trees and bushes get bigger, is all.”
“It’s not that. I know it’s the same, but it seems, I don’t know, smaller? And way more run down.”
“You haven’t been here in twenty years. You were smaller then so naturally the house seemed bigger.” My mother stood next to me on the front walk and looked up at the old craftsman-style house that stood back from the street, nestled in the early evening light amidst towering oaks and overgrown shrubs. “And, of course, your grandfather wasn’t able to keep up the maintenance those last few years before he died so the place could use some tidying up. I really wish my relationship with him hadn’t been so contentious these last several years, otherwise I could have helped him more.”
I sighed outwardly and groaned internally. Tidying up? It looked like it would be easier just to burn the old place down. Moving into my grandfather’s run-down old place was the last thing I wanted to do after living the married life for the last ten years. If my son of a bitch husband hadn’t pulled his shit on me and decided he ‘wanted to move on’, I would be back in my comfortable, cozy home I had invested my heart and soul into since we bought it five years ago, drinking tea and contemplating how to make my new career as a decorator come true. Now I didn’t have the house I was going to use as a model or the husband I thought would love me forever.
But, things were what they were, and there was no going back to Simon now. He didn’t want me, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to beg him to take me back after finding him and his mistress going at it in my bed.
“Elaine MacKenzie, don’t you sigh at me. Come on, dear. Once we get inside you’ll feel differently. It really does have good bones and some old-fashioned charm.”
I knew whenever my mother called me by my first and last name, the noose was being pulled tighter. We stepped inside and I did feel differently—more depressed. Why did old people’s houses always smell like mothballs and mildew?
“Connie’s plane gets in tomorrow. You don’t mind picking her up, do you?”
“No problem,” I answered half-heartedly as Mom stood in the foyer and looked up the stairs to the second floor. A quick glance into the house told me I had better just set my suitcase and purse down by the door or I might never find them again. There was stuff piled from one end to the other.
“You’ll be okay rooming with Connie for a while, won’t you? You always got along well when you were kids.”
I knew better than to debate the point with my mother. Connie was a brat and everyone knew it. I think in a weird way she did actually look up to me as her older cousin so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I had hardly seen her as an adult. Most people grow out of the kid stuff eventually. It might be fun to have a ‘just girls’ place for a while. I sure had no interest in finding a new man any time soon.
“You know her mother’s hoping you’ll be a good influence on her,” my mother said. “She hasn’t been able to find work with her art degree and she moved back home over a year ago.” I rolled my eyes.
“I know,” Mom continued. “Now stop it. The two of you should go into business together! I can just see it—LC Enterprises.”
“And do what, Mom? I have my own life to figure out. I don’t need the responsibility for figuring out someone else’s too.”
“I know, I know,” she said, shaking her head. She always ‘knew’, but she continued anyway. “I’m just having fun with a little bit of imagination. I’ve tried not to say too much because I know it’s none of my business, but you’ll be better off without that Simon. I never liked the way he tried to control everything you said and did. Now you can be your own person and be who you want to be.” She blinked and tried to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. “He was never good enough for you.”
I forced a laugh and scolded her. “Don’t you start! You’ll have both of us crying and I’m not in the mood.” I kissed her on the cheek and despite my better judgment, asked, “What does LC stand for? Last Chance?”
“Laney and Connie, silly.” And this time it was her turn to roll her eyes.
“Why did Connie need to take a vacation anyway? A vacation from what?”
“Probably her mother needed a vacation from her.”
“That I can understand.”
We both laughed and Mom excused herself to find the bathroom, leaving me alone to take in my surroundings. There was crap everywhere—opened and unopened boxes scattered from room to room, clothes lying on the furniture, plastic bins, piles of papers surrounding the dining room tab
le and hutch. There was a coat of dust over everything, but at first glance it didn’t appear to be a health hazard—there wasn’t garbage lying around and no mouse droppings that I could see. Just a lot of stuff. I didn’t remember it being this way when I used to visit as a child. Soren Thoresson was a successful businessman, owning the only department store in the small town area. Grandma Teoline had died long ago. Did he really live like this? Or did his ‘girlfriend’ Saundra Sills do this? It was still impossible to refer to Saundra as his girlfriend without mentally putting quotes around the word. What kind of name was Saundra anyway? I would never forget the first time we met and I made the mistake of asking if the woman went by Sandy. “It’s Saundra,” she drawled, emphasizing the ‘au’ sound way more than was bearable to hear. Mom said they were supposedly going to get married, but he died before tying the knot. Grandpa always was a jerk. If anyone would marry an annoying younger floozy after his money, it would be him.
Maybe it would have been better if they had gotten married. Then Saundra would be the one here dealing with this mess instead of me. There’d never really been any money anyway, despite what Saundra might have thought.
“Would you like a cup of tea before I go?” my mother called from the kitchen, interrupting my contemplations.
I walked around the boxes and found my way to the kitchen where Mom was clearing things off the stove to put the kettle on.
“No, I’m fine. You don’t need to stay. I’ll have to clean out a room upstairs before tonight anyway so maybe I should just get started,” I said, hoping she would take the hint.
“Well, we should discuss what you think your plans should be, get your budget started, etc. Perhaps I should stay awhile and help you get settled?” Hints and subtlety were one of those things Mom could ignore like no one I had ever seen. Unfortunately, blatant commands were ignored with the same blissful obliviousness.
“Mom, you said this was my project.” I hated myself for sounding like I was twelve. “Really, I will write out all my plans and you can come over in a day or two and I’ll let you have some input.” I tried to soften my tone and the words, but didn’t succeed very well.
“Oh, you’re right. Sorry. I just keep seeing you as my little girl,” she answered as she smiled at me.
I laughed. “I know how hard it is to see me as a grown up since I’m only thirty-two.” I hugged her and she made her way back to the front door. I walked out with her to retrieve the rest of my stuff from my car. Dragging my box and groceries from the car I turned and happened to glance at the neighbor’s house and saw someone looking out the window. I smiled and nodded. It was a small town and the biggest entertainment everyone had was watching their neighbors. It paid to be polite and friendly when moving in somewhere new. The curtain quickly fell back in place.
Returning to the house I took the supplies into the kitchen and placed them on the table, pushing the rest of the crap already there out of the way. Something crashed to the floor on the far side. Oops, I sighed to myself. Whatever, I couldn’t imagine it did any more damage to the floor with the shape it was in. The old worn linoleum would have to come up. All these boxes and clutter were driving me crazy. I’d unpack later, but I had to clean a space on the counter first.
After spending forty-five minutes moving stuff from one place to another and not really making any noticeable progress, I decided to call it a day and make a fresh start tomorrow. It was getting late, and I was ready to head upstairs with my suitcase to find somewhere to sleep. I wondered what my chances were of finding clean sheets. Probably not very good. Luckily, my grandfather had left the stairs clear so I didn’t have to battle my way to the second floor. On making it to the top of the steep steps I found the hallway relatively clear as well. A large trunk was at the top of the steps but the rest of the hallway was empty except for a nightlight plugged into an outlet that was giving off a dim glow. Well, one place I wouldn’t have to clear out anyway. It did have hideous wallpaper I would have to strip. I couldn’t imagine when it had ever been thought to be pretty. Pink, blue, orange, and yellow, all riotously carousing across the room in a paisley pattern. Lovely. I glanced up and down the hallway and saw one of the bedroom doors was closed. I didn’t know why, but it gave me the oddest feeling. I knew there was no one in the room, but for some reason my imagination started putting weird ideas in my head—like there might be a dead body in there, or something else similarly horrifying.
I chided myself for my silliness, threw open the door and switched on the overhead light. No dead bodies, but more boxes and other junk that should have been thrown away at least ten years ago. The realization of more work chased away the illogical, uneasy feeling. I looked in the other bedrooms and bathroom, making a sweep of the second level, trying to feel at home in a house that wasn’t mine. All the rooms had piles of broken furniture, boxes, lamps, old linens and refuse of an undefined nature. Great.
I chose the master bedroom as my own since there was at least walking space around the bed. I stripped off the sheets and went in search of the washer and dryer. Returning to the main floor I remembered that the appliances were in the basement. Yuck. A spider-filled dungeon, I was sure. I hated basements and this one always made me feel sick and clammy when I would visit as a child.
But, I had to conquer my fear, I was a grown-up now. I would march right down and face those eight-legged creepy-crawlies. Opening the door to the basement felt right out of a horror novel—obligatory squeaky door and dark open stairs going down into an abyss of cold, dank dreariness.
I stopped, petrified, a sudden memory coming back to me. I hadn’t thought of it in years, but suddenly it seemed like yesterday. Connie and I had been in the basement poking around the junk while our parents argued with our grandfather upstairs. I had been teasing Connie and hiding behind things when I felt a hand come down on my shoulder. Thinking I’d been caught terrorizing my cousin by an adult, I’d jumped up and turned around. Only there was no one there. I never told anyone because I knew they would never believe me.
Reminding myself I had been an imaginative child, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I turned the light switch on next to the door, and, clutching my linens to my chest, I headed down. More boxes, piles of newspapers, tools, old tires and odds and ends of broken furniture again. There wasn’t anything my grandfather didn’t feel he needed a collection of, I guessed. Over to my right stood the washer and dryer right next to the shower and toilet in the corner. No walls surrounded the toilet but the shower had two concrete walls around it forming a partial stall. Classy. No shower curtain was in evidence. I would have to find a hardware store if I were able to steel myself to take a shower in this horrid place. Not that anybody would see me down here taking a shower, but it wouldn’t feel right bathing out in the open.
I walked over to the washer, shoved the sheets in and looked around for some detergent. A cheap, no-name brand sat on top of the dryer. Better that than nothing. I hoped I didn’t break out in a rash from it, then decided just to wash it on hot and add an extra rinse. I set the washer and turned toward the stairs. The weird feeling I had upstairs returned. It felt like someone was watching me. With my heart pounding I ran up the stairs as if someone was chasing me and pushed the door shut behind me.
I reached the imagined safety of my room and quickly pulled on an old pair of pajamas I had with me, wondering what other surprises might be in store. I knew taking on this project was a bad idea, but sometimes there was just no fighting my mother. And now, here I was, alone in this creepy old house, left to deal with the consequences. As my heartbeat slowed back down to a normal pace, I decided those sheets could just wait until morning. There was no way I was going back down in that basement tonight. I found some extra blankets in the closet and decided they would have to do. Whether I’d be able to sleep was another question.
I lay in bed, listening to the silence of the place, wondering if I knew what I was doing. I never should have said yes. Actually, I knew that I didn’t know wh
at I was doing, but my choices were rather limited right now. My eyes grew heavy as the dreamlike images of near-sleep danced across my consciousness. Soon, I was asleep. Then I heard the music.
Chapter Two
I woke with a start to a dim room, my heart pounding. I could feel the chill in the air through the heavy quilt covering me and I shivered involuntarily. My nose was actually cold. I looked around, trying to remember where I was, but nothing seemed familiar in the glow of the nightlight from the hallway. I could see the dark shapes of boxes, furniture and various clutter piled around the bed, and then I remembered. I was alone in my dead grandfather’s house.
I made a conscious effort to slow my breathing as I tried to figure out what had awakened me. Something had disturbed me. As the soft sound reached my ears, I knew. There was music coming from the floor below, and I hadn’t left anything on before coming to bed except for a lamp in the living room.
I lay in bed, wondering if someone had broken into the house. If so, I couldn’t just wait for them to find me. I reached out from under the covers to feel for my cell phone on the bedside table, but it wasn’t there. I cringed as I realized I must have forgotten it in my purse on the kitchen table. Phone service hadn’t been turned on yet, so the old rotary phone next to the bed was useless.
Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions. Why would a burglar turn on music to rob a house? With so many things of my grandfather’s stacked around, maybe a radio with a timer had somehow turned itself on. I hadn’t brought one with me, but it was logical to think there was one somewhere in the old house.
There was only one way to find out what was happening. I slid out of bed and grasped my robe from the bedpost, the soft, familiar flannel steadying my nerves. Not bothering to find my slippers in the dark, I found that I was still shivering, whether from cold or fright I couldn’t tell, perhaps both.
