by Tanya Stowe
He carried her into a room on the left and directly to a large wooden rocker in front of a fireplace. A vintage floor lamp with art deco lines stood beside the rocker, and he flipped the switch. Bright light flowed over Suzy.
“Let’s have a look at that knee.”
Scott knelt and pulled the edges of her torn running suit away. Already, a bruise had started to form on the point of her kneecap. After a few moments of examination, he said, “Not much swelling. That’s a good sign. Any pain?”
“Just from that nasty looking cut,” Suzy said.
“It’s only nasty because it’s dirty. Let me get something to clean it.”
He stepped into the next room and flicked a light switch. Suzy caught a glimpse of stainless steel appliances, copper pots hanging from the ceiling, clean marble counters, white cabinets, and a small breakfast table for two.
A sudden, unwelcome thought chilled her blood. Was her Rochester married? Her heart thudded in her chest and suddenly, she had trouble swallowing.
Returning with medicine bottles, bandages, and a bag of ice, Scott dropped to his knees in front of her. In one hand, he held a small wash basin. “Soak your hands in here to loosen up some of that dirt and gravel.”
He pulled the edges of her pants further apart and probed at her knee with his fingers. After a medical style examination, he began to clean the scratch. When salve and a bandage had been applied, he wrapped a towel over the ice bag and placed it gently on her knee.
“That seemed like a pretty professional job.” Suzy attempted to distract her thoughts from the very deft, suntanned fingers touching her knee. Such beautiful hands and long, strong fingers. Could a man’s hands be beautiful?
“I’m a firefighter and an EMT.” He barely even glanced in her direction. Grasping one wrist, he pulled her dripping fingers out of the wash basin. His tone and attitude made it clear no more information in that arena would be forthcoming, but Suzy had to probe. How else would she know if there was a Mrs. Lunsford?
“Well, all those first aid skills must come in handy when the family needs medical aid.”
He slanted a wry look in her direction.
“Or for accident prone neighbors,” she quickly added, chaffing under his gaze.
“There’s no family. Just me.” He popped the lid back on the antiseptic. “And accident prone neighbors are always welcome to my skills…such as they are.”
Suzy wasn’t sure where that comment had come from or what it meant. All she really understood was the “just me” part.
He carried the medical supplies back to the kitchen, and Suzy released a huge sigh of relief—which quickly turned into a shiver.
“You’re cold. Let me build a fire.”
“Oh, no. I’m sure it’s too much trouble. You’ve already been so much help.”
“It’s no bother.” Wood was already stacked in the fireplace. He bent, pulled a long match from a copper pot on the hearth, struck it, and turned the gas on.
The flame sparked the kindling, and within moments, welcome heat warmed Suzy’s skin. “Wow. I didn’t expect an old house like this to have gas in the fireplace.”
“It didn’t. I had it put in when I re-did the plumbing, the sewer lines, and all the electricity. Had those basics done before I moved in and now I’m tackling the rooms one by one, trying to get them back to their original shape.”
“I’m impressed. I would never have recognized this house’s potential.”
“I didn’t recognize anything. I knew what it could be. The house belonged to my grandparents. I inherited it when my grandmother passed two years ago. My brothers, my sister, and I spent our summers here, running wild in the forest. Grandpa taught us all about the wildlife, and we helped Grandma with a giant garden in the back. Some of my best memories were created in this house.”
His words died out, and Suzy got the impression that some bad memories had been created here as well. Did they have something to do with what they’d both seen in the clearing?
He rose to his feet and reached for her hand. “Let’s check out that knee.” On her feet, Suzy found her knee tender, but better than she had anticipated. “I’m almost good as new.”
Scott shook his head. “We’ll see what you say in the morning. Tomorrow you’re going to be very sore. If there’s any sharp pain or swelling, you’ll need to see a doctor.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Now that she was on her feet, she couldn’t think of a good excuse to stay. “Well, I’ve imposed on you long enough. I guess I’d better be on my way.”
Was it her imagination, or was Scott hesitant to let her go? Her heart did a little double beat as he gestured to her scraped hands.
“You won’t be much good with those tonight. Why don’t you stick around, and I’ll fix us something to eat?”
“You cook, too?” The admiration in her tone just slipped out. It was impossible to stop it. A firefighter. A whiz with first aid. A body she could look at all day. Grandparents he adored. Handy with tools. Maybe her Rochester could jump over buildings with a single bound.
He must have heard the breathiness in her tone because that wry smile slipped over those oh so, perfect lips. “I can manage a vegetable omelet. But don’t expect much more.”
“Veggies. I like veggies.” Suzy hoped she didn’t sound too wistful.
3
Scott walked into the kitchen, smiling, well aware that he was taking advantage of Suzy’s slightly dazed, after-injury state. But he didn’t care. The last thing he wanted was to be alone in the house this evening, especially after what had happened in the clearing.
Up until an hour ago, he thought he was losing his mind. Now, thanks to Suzy, he knew all the strange sounds and images he’d been experiencing weren’t in his head. Suzy had some authoritative-sounding opinions he was anxious to hear.
He pulled zipped bags of chopped veggies from the fridge. Since omelets made up most of his meals, morning, lunch, and dinner, he cut up the ingredients in bulk and kept them handy. In just a few moments the smell of bell peppers and onions filled the kitchen.
“Coffee or cocoa?” He called out as he folded the eggs over.
“Cocoa, please. I’ve already had my quota of coffee for the day. I picked up a pumpkin latte on the way home.
“Ahhh, pumpkin latte. A girl after my own heart.”
He slid the omelet onto a plate and started the next one. As he worked, he heated the milk for the cocoa. In moments, he carried in a tray with the omelets and cocoa with whipped crème on top.
He frowned, certain he’d seen Suzy’s lips moving, almost as if she was silently counting the crockery on his grandmother’s side table. As soon as she saw him though, her lips sealed. He set the tray on the floor in front of the fire.
“It’s not fancy, but it’s hot.”
“I’m sure it will be just fine.” She winced slightly as her hands wrapped around the plate and cup. “See, you were right. I needed help tonight so canned soup would have been fine with me. A fresh omelet is a treat.”
She took her first bite and the smile on her face told Scott she was pleasantly surprised. He could cook up a mean omelet, especially since it was the only thing he made.
After a while, Suzy gestured to the side table. “You have some lovely antiques. Are you a collector?”
“No. These all belonged to my grandmother, and most of them have a family history. For instance, that standing lamp beside you was bought by my great-grandfather for my great-grandmother in 1927, on the occasion of the birth of my grandmother. Twenty years ago, Grandma found it in the attic and had it restored.”
Pointing over his shoulder to a piece behind him he said, “That oak secretary was the first piece of furniture my grandparents bought after they were married in 1948. Grandma found it in a secondhand store and restored it. It’s been in the family ever since.”
“So that’s where you get your talents, from your grandmother.”
“Maybe her restoration talent
s. I’m good at carpentry and repairs but that’s it. I have no idea what to do with all of this...how to make it look like a home.” Did he sound as sad as the words made him feel? He must have, because Suzy lowered her gaze, away from his.
“I know exactly what I’d do,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yep. I’d take those lovely pieces of brown crockery off that crowded sideboard and put them in the center of the table. Then I’d find some colorful cloth napkins, maybe checked, and fan stack them next to the crockery. It’ll look like a table just waiting for the family to come to dinner.”
“Wow. That’s a great idea. Simple and colorful. But I have no idea where to find those kind of napkins.”
“There’s a little store just behind the supermarket called Country Creations. She’s bound to have something like that.”
“Thanks. I’ll take a look.”
“While you’re at it, look for a crème-colored vase. A fall flower arrangement, maybe mums, would look spectacular on the claw foot table in the entry.”
“I will. Thanks. I remember my grandmother occasionally put flowers on that table.” He smiled at the memory. “It might actually start to look like a home again.”
But even as the words left his mouth, he wondered how it could ever feel like home after the strange things that had occurred in the last month. With that thought, his smile faded.
“Don’t, Scott. Don’t do that,” Suzy commanded, her soft voice surprisingly strong.
“What?”
“Don’t let that thing…whatever it was, take away your love of this house. Don’t let it destroy all the good that happened here.”
“It’s kind of hard to remember the good when all these bizarre things keep happening. Strange sounds. Things falling off of tables and cupboards. That image appearing, looking like…” He couldn’t say her name out loud. It seemed wrong to call that ghostly image by Julie’s name.
“You aren’t being haunted. It’s not a ghost.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because scripture is very clear about where a person goes when they die, and it’s not to return to frighten their loved ones. Most of what we hear about ghosts comes from peoples’ imaginations. Not the Bible.”
“What about what we saw in the clearing. Did that come from our imaginations?”
“Well…no. There’s not much in Scripture to make me believe in ghosts…but there’s quite a bit about demons or evil spirits.”
“Demons? Whoa! Back up a minute.”
“Demons like angels come in different varieties some are much more powerful and well, scarier. But if you prefer, I’ll just say there are dark spirits, oppressive spirits. They attach themselves to intense emotions like depression, anger, hatred, or guilt.”
Scott gave a quick start as she said guilt.
Suzy noticed his reaction. “What do you have to feel guilty about?” Her words sounded incredulous, as if he couldn’t possibly be guilty of any wrongdoing.
Silly, of course. But her attitude made him feel comfortable, safe enough to talk about it.
He rose from the floor and sat on the couch close to Suzy’s chair. His hands fell between his knees and clasped his fingers together. “A year ago I was on duty at the station. We answered a routine accident call. But there was nothing routine about it. A car full of teenagers swerved into the other lane, hit an oncoming vehicle. The teens were killed instantly. The other driver managed to turn her car slightly away, but she was pinned in. The officer on the radio said she was conscious, bleeding badly, and in terrible pain. We pulled up. I grabbed my gear, headed over, and then just froze. The woman in the car was my girlfriend, Julie.”
He gripped his fingers tighter, his anguish as fresh as if it had happened moments ago. “I just stood there, staring while she bled to death. My partner had to push me out of the way to get to her.”
He could still hear the sound of the machinery roaring to life as they tried to cut her free. His partner, shouting over the noise, telling him to protect Julie from the sparks while he tried to reach her legs, to stop the bleeding.
Finally able to move, Scott stood over her. He could see her life draining out of her, see the moment she recognized him, and the moment her lips shaped the words, help me. Then she was gone.
Scott realized he was gripping his fingers so tight, they were white. He released them and took a deep breath. “We couldn’t save her.”
He didn’t look at Suzy. He couldn’t. And if she repeated all the platitudes he’d heard before like “it was God’s will,” or “you did your best,” he would be disappointed. So far, this petite little woman, with the big green eyes and a pixie haircut, had said the right things, made him feel better. He didn’t want to be disappointed. Not yet.
“Of course the department sent me to counseling and did it all by the book, but nothing helped. I couldn’t put that night or my failure behind me. My pastor finally suggested I take a leave of absence. I decided to come here, where all my memories were happy. In the beginning everything was great. Then keys started falling off of counters, even when I knew I’d put them far back from the edge. Cabinet doors I closed opened again on their own. Sometimes at night, I thought I heard a woman crying somewhere in the house, but I could never find her. She sounded so sad, so disappointed.”
“And you thought it was Julie, because you failed to save her?” Suzy’s asked.
Scott quirked one eyebrow at the skepticism in her tone. “No, not at first. I didn’t think that until I saw shadows take the shape of a woman with Julie’s face. It even had long, dark hair like hers. Tell me that’s not what you saw in the clearing, and I’ll stop believing it.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I can’t tell you that. It did look like a woman with long hair. But I still don’t believe it’s Julie’s ghost. All you’ve said convinces me even more that it’s an oppressive spirit, trying to make you think it’s Julie.”
Scott shook his head. “If I were you, I’d be running far away. But you seem to be taking all of this in stride. How do you know so much about it, and how can you be so certain?”
Suzy’s lips lifted in a slight smile. “My uncle is a pastor. Unfortunately, he’s had experience with this.”
She reached across the space and grasped both Scott’s hands. “My uncle taught me that the war has already been won. Jesus defeated evil the moment He died up on that cross. The only power evil has over us is the power we give it…through our own sin. That’s why spirits attach themselves to our darker emotions, pride, anger, guilt.”
Growing uncomfortable, Scott shifted and loosened her hands from his. “So you’re saying this spirit attached itself to my guilt and uses Julie’s shape and my memories to make me feel worse? For what purpose? What’s the point?
“To keep you distressed, confused, and discouraged. Maybe even to destroy all the happiness created in this house. I don’t know. I just know it’s working.”
Her words struck a raw nerve. The truth always struck deep. He was losing all that was dear to him, all that he had left, and he couldn’t seem to stop it from happening. He was failing…again. And a tiny sprite of a woman had to explain it to him. That didn’t set well.
Maybe she was wrong. After all, how could a girl like her possibly know about loss or guilt? She was a trusting pixie with innocent eyes. She even had sunshine sprinkled across her nose! What did she really know about dark spirits...demons?
“Even if you’re right…and I’m not saying you are…how do I stop it? What do I do?”
“You don’t have to stop ‘it’, Scott. You have to stop you. The war has already been won. Jesus did that. All you have to do now is accept His gift.”
“I accepted Jesus into my life a long time ago.”
“Then you know you are forgiven,” she said so quietly, Scott almost didn’t hear her. “Now all you have to do is forgive yourself.”
She made it sound so simple. What did she think he’d been doing for the last year?
He’d tried so many different ways to put it behind him, to forget and move on with his life. He thought coming here would make the difference. But then the darkness had come, blotting out the sunshine, the light and now, even the happy memories.
She didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly know how difficult it was. The disappointment he’d been trying to keep at a distance washed over him. He tried to prevent it from seeping into his tone, but he wasn’t very successful. “It’s getting late. We’d better get you home.”
Ignoring the crestfallen look on Suzy’s face, he put the dishes back on the tray and took them to the kitchen. Then he helped her rise from the chair, lifted her into his arms and carried her to his truck.
****
Idiot! Stupid! Dummy!
Suzy called herself fifteen different, foolish names as they drove home without a word. She didn’t even have to give him directions to her house. He knew the way to Heart’s Haven, so they traveled in heavy silence.
She’d scared him away with her talk of demons and guilt. He’d probably drop her off in front of her bungalow and drive away, never to be seen again.
Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? Why did she have to spout off? Just nodding her head and sounding sympathetic would have been enough. It’s what her beautiful sisters probably would have done…and they always got the guy. Suzy turned her head away to look out the window.
But she couldn’t keep silent. Her Rochester…she had to stop calling him that. He certainly wouldn’t be hers after tonight.
Scott needed help. He was suffering, and she couldn’t keep silent. She had to offer him what help she could, even if the penalty for her help was the loss of the friendship.
Lord, help him. No matter what, help him. Numb with disappointment, Suzy started to count the telephone poles along the highway.
Scott turned into the Heart’s Haven drive and finally broke the silence. “Which bungalow is yours?”
