Emily turned to look at me, but I’d already started climbing the stairs again.
“I’ll wait here for you,” she called after me.
I didn’t care. I was angry and scared and worried that maybe I was going crazy. I’d heard that the person who is crazy is always the last to know, so maybe Emily was right.
At the landing, I surveyed both ends of the hallway. I no longer heard the jingling, so I pondered my options as to which of the doors to enter first. Almost automatically, I turned to the left and walked toward the center of the house to search for what would be the center window of the rear of the manor. Unexpected curiosity had taken over me, and I intended to prove the ghosts existed. No matter how scared I was of the truth, my determination not to be crazy overpowered that which was my worst fear.
I counted all the doors. There were five in all, including the door at the far end of the hall that led to a room that obviously occupied three sides of the manor. That room didn’t matter to me right now, as I stood before the door in the exact center of the hall. I stood there waiting for several minutes. For what, I couldn’t be sure, but I found myself staring at the peeling paint on the door, and the aged brass of the doorknob I clenched in my hand. I turned the knob slowly, mentally preparing myself for whatever I would encounter behind the safety of the door.
The door squeaked in protest as I slowly pushed the door open. Light from the room now illuminated the hallway, revealing a patch of wall that the contractors had not yet repaired. The plaster had chipped away, exposing the inner slats of wood that held the walls together, and I could feel cold air when I placed my hand over the hole.
Turning my attention to what was behind the door I’d opened only slightly, I held my breath and pushed it open all the way. At the far wall, two tall windows let in bright sunlight that reflected off pale, yellowed walls. At one end of the room, a wrought-iron crib stood nicely preserved except for the worn white paint, and yellowed, lace bedding. In the corner, near the crib, on top of a dresser was a pair of leather baby shoes with thick soles. A shoe hook lay beside the shoes; Wellington Shoe Store was stamped neatly in the curve of the metal handle. A galvanized metal tub rested on the other side of the long dresser; the slightly melted remains of a cake of soap was stuck to the bottom. In the other corner, a rocking chair with an embroidered cushion had worn a path in the wooden slats of the floor, as evidence of many hours of use.
In the center of the braided rug in the middle of the room was a little wooden table with four matching chairs. On top of the table, a child’s porcelain tea set was arranged with teacups at three of the four chairs. The fourth cup sat in the center next to the teapot and sugar bowl. I opened the lid to the sugar bowl exposing yellowed, crystallized sugar. The creamer still had the remains of dried, cracked cream at the bottom, lifting slightly up the sides. Upon closer examination, I noted that each of the three place settings displayed evidence of tea-stained porcelain cups and cookie plates that were most likely visited by mice after the manor lay vacant for a time. I lifted the lid to the teapot and discovered dried flakes of tea still occupied the bottom of the stained, porcelain teapot.
Running a hand across the back of one of the chairs, I felt something almost like a small electrical charge. The hair on the back of my neck felt prickly, while the short hairs on my arms stood straight up toward the ceiling.
I took a few steps back. This was something new. I’d have to remember to tell Emily. Suddenly, my back was against the crib, and I turned around and reached inside, feeling the scratchy, aged fabric. The same prickly feeling engulfed me, but this time, I didn’t back away. Resting my hands on the top rail of the crib, I could feel something there—a presence, Emily would have called it.
The rail of the crib became almost icy to the touch, but I clenched it in fear, determined to stand my ground no matter what happened. I looked down into the crib at the bedding that was probably once very plush, but with age had decayed to a scratchy, withered display of what once was. The longer I held the rail, the colder it became, almost to an unbearable cold that tricked my mind into feeling hot at the same time.
When I thought I could no longer stand it, Baby Lizzie appeared, holding a glass bottle in her hand with a few ounces of milk remaining in the bottom. I didn’t dare move. But as I stood there, I realized she wasn’t moving either. Her eyes were open, but she never blinked her haunting blue eyes. She was clearly dead. Maybe this was the way she was found over one hundred years ago. The bed grew colder, and I let my grip loosen under the unbearable cold. I wanted to reach out to her, but I feared contact with the unknown. Besides, I had no idea if holding a ghost would bring comfort—that is if I could even pick her up. I couldn’t tell if she even knew I was there. This wasn’t like seeing Amelia, who seemed to possess some sort of communication and awareness for me. Unable to bear seeing her in this state any longer, I let go of the crib, intending to walk away. When I let go of the rail, however, she completely disappeared. I stepped away, not wanting to see her in that state again if I could help it.
Thinking I’d had enough excitement for one day, I started to back out of the room. Amelia, it would seem, had other plans for me. I stood in the doorway and observed her as she sat at the little table pouring tea. As the tea went into one teacup, Fredrick appeared at that place setting, and Lizzie appeared at the other. Lizzie looked older, like she would have at the age of four when she died. Confused as to the way I’d seen Lizzie in the crib, and the way she appeared now in front of me, I stood my ground once again and observed carefully.
None of the three children seemed to be aware of my presence. It almost seemed like they were replaying their lives as when they were alive. They seemed quite dressed up for an afternoon tea, but then again, I had no idea how people dressed for tea back then. Amelia and Lizzie both had silk ribbons in their light brown, curly hair that coordinated with their matching yellow dresses. The dresses looked homemade by a talented seamstress—their mother, perhaps. Fredrick, with sandy, brown hair neatly combed, wore a pressed white shirt with navy blue knickers cuffed at the knees, and a matching navy blue blazer. His brown hair matched his gold eyes, and sullen look. Amelia and Lizzie, expressionless, went about drinking their tea without speaking or looking at one another. Although Fredrick looked as though he might have something to say, his face went blank the moment Amelia put her index finger to her lips; her eyes piercing mine.
I stood motionless, holding my breath in fear. I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of. She was only a little girl. But a dead girl, nonetheless, and I knew nothing about her or what she was capable of as a ghost. I took a step backward, not wanting to find out the hard way, when she grabbed both her sibling’s hands and disappeared with them in tow.
I quickened my steps down the hall and practically ran down the stairs, Emily still waiting at the bottom for me.
She jumped up, apparently alarmed at my speed of descent. “Everything okay, Claire?”
I walked right past her. “Time to go, Em”
She called after me, but I didn’t slow my pace. I’d had enough of Amelia for the time being, and wasn’t sure how long it would be before I’d come back for more.
When we were in the car, Emily asked what happened upstairs, but I couldn’t tell her. I was deeply afraid I had gone mentally off the deep end. The only person I wanted to talk to was my mother, but I was unwilling to converse with her as a ghost, so that was definitely out of the question. It’s not like I could summon her—or could I? I had to wonder at this point.
Even though it was less than a mile away, the drive back to the cottage seemed to take a long time, due to the complete silence that stood between Emily and me. She’d known me long enough to know when I didn’t want to talk about something, and she was a good enough friend to give me the space I needed. Still, it didn’t make things any easier. I wanted to talk about it. I needed to talk about it, but I was too afraid to admit to the things I’d seen for fear I would appear insane.
When we pulled in
to the drive of the cottage, Emily didn’t get out of the car when I started to get out.
“I can’t take it anymore, Claire. What happened up there?”
I eased back in behind the wheel. “I guess it isn’t like I haven’t already told you I’ve seen the ghosts, but this was quite a bit worse.”
“Did she turn into a poltergeist or something?”
“No, Em. But she looked right at me with this piercing look. And I felt things that I never felt before.”
Emily turned her head toward me in interest.
“Like what?”
I told her about the freezing rails of the baby crib, and the way Lizzie had looked as she lay there motionless and cold, and very dead. I explained the strange tea party the children were having, especially since Fredrick looked to be about twelve years old—far too old to be playing tea party with his sisters, in my opinion. Although she agreed with me on that account, she did mention the fact that the children were very secluded at the manor, and possibly very close as a result.
Emily made a good argument, but something still bothered me about it, especially the expression on Amelia’s face. It was the first time she’d displayed emotion when she looked at me. It was an anger of sort, but I couldn’t quite place it since I had no knowledge of her previous personality. For all I knew, she was a naughty little girl, and that was a normal look for her. Or quite possibly it was a cry for help in some strange, angry way. But what was she angry about? Being dead? Did she even know she and the others were dead? She almost had to, but the way she led them both out of the room was almost as though they were zombies under her control. With Fredrick being so much older than she, why would he let Amelia lead him around like that—unless Fredrick and Lizzie were unaware they were dead. I was grasping at straws. Emily and I both knew it, but there just didn’t seem to be a logical explanation for any of the events.
“Did you ever find out where the bell noise was coming from, Claire?”
“No. It stopped when I reached the stairs, so I decided to go exploring instead. Some adventure that was.”
“Are you going to tell Ben about what you’ve seen?”
“No way, Em. He would probably divorce me after having me committed.”
“If it’s any consolation, Claire, I’ve known you more than half my life, and I’ve never known you to act irrationally or crazy in any way.”
“It means something. But maybe not enough for my new husband. I already love him so much, Em, and I don’t want to do anything to screw this up.”
“Then tell him the truth. I’d be willing to bet he’s a lot more understanding than you give him credit for. He’s your husband, and you can’t keep things from him. He will eventually see something is wrong, and then he’ll be upset you didn’t tell him sooner. Husbands always feel that way.”
“Would you tell Steve?”
“Of course not. He’d think I was crazy and have me committed.”
I shook my head at her. “You are NO help at all.”
I got out of the car and headed for the cottage, leaving Emily behind.
It didn’t take her long to catch up with my sluggishly, unhappy pace, and we were both at the kitchen door of the cottage at the same time.
She put a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
“I know.”
I opened the door, and Sophia came running to me from the kitchen counter where Emily’s mother was washing fresh blueberries.
She held her arms out to me. “Momma.”
I scooped her up in my arms. Hearing her call me momma was just what I needed. It was the perfect ending for a stressful morning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After lunch, Emily left with her mother and Isabelle. I settled Sophia down for a nap, and the house was quiet. Not wanting to think about my morning, I busied myself with a grocery list for tomorrow’s visit with Hillary. She had offered to help me shop for my new family and teach me how to cook more than macaroni and cheese. She’d insisted she could show me what ingredients to buy that would make simple, easy meals that I could freeze for future consumption. Being the mother of three, she expressed the importance of staying organized to keep the family happy.
At 4:30, a red SUV pulled into the driveway, and Ben hopped out. I grabbed the baby monitor and ran out there to meet him.
“What happened to my car? Did you get into an accident or did you buy this thing?”
Ben held up his hands against my questions. “No. I didn’t buy it. It’s on loan for a few days so you can try it out. This is the one you said you wanted when we were browsing online, right?”
“Yes. This is the exact one. It’s the right color and everything. You must have had a tough time driving my beat-up car. I’m sorry you had to take it this morning.”
“I left the car seat in my car on purpose so I could surprise you.”
I threw my arms around him and kissed him passionately.
“It’s a great surprise, but how did you manage the time? I thought you would be gone all day today.”
“Jury selection only took four hours, so after organizing everything at my office for tomorrow, I went over to the dealership in Milford and asked to test this out. Look in the back. It has a pull-down DVD player in the ceiling. It has navigation, a sun roof, and heated seats for the cold winters we have. It only had twelve miles on it when I drove it off the lot.”
I held up the baby monitor. “I want to drive it but Sophia’s still sleeping.”
Ben handed me the keys and took the baby monitor. “I’ll trade you. Go drive it. I really think you’ll like it.”
I kissed him quickly, then, ran into the house for my purse. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
If Emily had told me a week ago I’d be getting this excited over an SUV, I might have been tempted to slug her. But driving down the road, I couldn’t help but think about such things as the convenience of getting groceries tomorrow with Hillary, or how much easier it will be to pack up a stroller and diaper bags and everything else that Sophia needs for family trips. Ben was right. I really liked it and it was fun to drive. So much fun, in fact, I’d forgotten all about the trouble at the manor, and couldn’t wait to go back home to pick up my family and take them out to dinner.
At Luigi’s, on the outskirts of Wellington, Sophia discovered a love for spaghetti and meatballs, while Ben and I ordered fettuccini Alfredo with chicken parmesan. On the ride home, we stopped at Cost-Mart and picked up a few children’s DVD’s to test the player in the roof of my new vehicle. Sophia was so happy she fell asleep before we reached the cottage. Ben put her into her crib while I lit scented candles in the bedroom, intending to lure my husband into a night of passion—our first since the move to the cottage.
The morning was not as kind to me as the previous night. I woke before Ben’s alarm feeling sick and shaky. Just as predicted, the remains of last night’s dinner made its way up before I could close the bathroom door. When I recovered, I leaned back against the bathroom wall and flushed. Ben offered me a wet wash cloth, and crouched on the cold, tile floor with me and held me.
“I guess dinner didn’t agree with me,” I managed with a weak voice.
“I hate to leave you today, but I’m going to have to. Do you want me to call Hillary and ask her to come a little earlier? I’m sure Sam can get the kids to school this morning.”
I shook my head as he started the shower for me and helped me out of my nightgown. The water woke me up a little, but I still felt a little woozy. After the shower, I put on a fresh nightgown and climbed back into bed since Sophia was still sleeping. Ben kissed me lightly on the forehead, then, readied himself for work. I barely stirred when he left, but he whispered in my ear that Hillary was with Sophia in the kitchen getting her breakfast. I nodded, then, went back to sleep for another two hours.
A noise jolted me out of bed. The clock read 9:07. I practically ran into the kitchen where Sophia had dropped her sippy-cup, and
Hillary was loading the dishwasher.
She looked up when she saw me. “You look like crap, Sweetie.”
I grumbled. “I feel like crap.”
“Do you think it’s the flu or food poisoning?”
I thought about it for a minute. “Ben and I ate the same thing, so it can’t be food poisoning. And I don’t have a fever, so it’s probably not the flu either.”
Hillary reached a hand to my forehead like she would have for one of her children.
“You’re right. No fever. That only leaves one thing.”
I looked up at her, trying to focus without my contacts. “What’s that?”
She smiled. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
“I couldn’t be pregnant already. Ben and I have only been married a few weeks.”
“Once is all it takes, Sweetie.”
My head hurt from thinking about it, but I took a moment to mentally do the math. “I guess I am three days late. I’ve been so busy with everything, I didn’t even think about it.”
“You feel up to going into town? We could pick up a test.”
I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. “I guess so. But how am I going to deal with having a baby when I just got one? I barely know what to do with her.”
Hillary hugged me. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have nine long months to learn everything you need to know. And your friends and family will be right here with you the whole way. Don’t worry about a thing. Let’s find out first, and let the rest worry about itself.”
The test showed positive, so Hillary helped me get an appointment with the same doctor that delivered all three of her children. I was nervous about telling Ben, so I decided to try it out on Emily first. Hillary had long since left after helping me with the shopping and food prep for a few dinners that were placed in the freezer for future baking.
The first try, I reached Emily’s voicemail, so I did what she always did to me and redialed her number. She picked up on the first ring. “Sorry. I was on the other line with Steve. He needs to pick up milk on the way home from work. What’s up?”
The Apothecary's Daughter (Romance/Mystery/Suspense) Page 11
