Belle Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  He shook his head. “Not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t. Why do you need to see them, anyway?”

  “Are you Lawrence?”

  He laughed. “I should say not.”

  “Then this isn’t your place, and me being here isn’t your decision to make. It’s theirs.”

  “What I say goes around here.”

  “And yet, when I looked into the current owners of the manor, Lawrence and Cecilia are still listed. If you’re not Lawrence, you have no right to send me away. If they don’t want me here, they can tell me themselves, and I’ll leave.”

  She brushed past him and fisted a hand, preparing to knock on the front door.

  The man grabbed her arm and jerked her back. “It’s time for you to go.”

  Addison shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me!”

  He poked at her shoulder with his finger, “Or what? What are you going to do?”

  “Did you live here when Sara was alive? Did you know her?”

  He stepped back, surprised, like her name hadn’t been spoken in so long, it had almost become unfamiliar to him.

  “Sara is ... she was ... none of your business, and you need to leave. Now.”

  “She was killed by a hit-and-run driver, right? And the person responsible was never found.”

  “If you’ve come here to stir up the past, you won’t get anywhere.”

  It had been over forty years since Sara’s death, but the pain the man exhibited on his face was evident. He had known her.

  “You’re Lawrence,” Addison said. “You were Sara’s father, weren’t you?”

  “I ... no. I wasn’t. I’m not who you think I am.”

  “You knew her, though. I can tell.”

  The front door creaked open, and a woman stepped outside. She was barefoot, dressed in a white nightgown, and had long, straight, white hair. Her face was slender and pale and looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in ages.

  She narrowed her kind, melancholy eyes at Addison and said, “Hello there. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Addison. Are you Cecilia Belle?”

  The woman nodded.

  The man glared at Cecilia. “Say nothing, CeeCee.”

  “Why not? It’s been ages since we’ve had a visitor. Can’t we invite her inside? She looks cold. It’s cold out here. Are you cold, Addison?”

  “She’s not a visitor,” the man said, “and she’s not coming inside.”

  “Why have you come?” Cecilia asked.

  “I wanted to ask you about—”

  “Nothing,” the man interjected. “She was out for a drive and stumbled on our place, and she was just leaving before you came outside.”

  “That’s not true,” Addison said.

  Cecilia looked confused. “Well, which is it?”

  Addison glared at the man. “Why not let her decide for herself? If she wants to talk to me, what’s the problem?”

  “CeeCee, go back inside the house,” the man said.

  “I ... no. I think I’d like to stay here and talk to our new friend.”

  “Go back into the house,” he said. “Right now.”

  Cecilia lowered her head and frowned like a child forced to do her parent’s bidding.

  “Wait,” Addison said. “I really need to talk to you, Mrs. Belle.”

  Cecilia glanced back. “Oh, that’s nice. You seem nice. I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Maybe another day.”

  Cecilia disappeared inside the manor, and the man cracked a slight grin.

  She’d done what he asked.

  He’d gotten his way.

  “You have ten seconds to get off this property or I’m calling the police,” he said.

  He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, waved it around for effect, and began counting down.

  Addison backed toward the car and opened the door, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be a second, smaller house attached to the main one. Through a window on the side, Addison thought she saw a shadow at first. Then the shadow moved. A woman with her hands pressed against the window stared down at Addison, her face forlorn and tired, eyes pleading for Addison to stay. She had long, blonde hair and was dressed in similar attire to what Cecilia had been wearing.

  The man counted down to five, looked at Addison, and then followed her line of sight. “What in heaven’s name are you looking at?”

  “The back part of the manor.”

  He shrugged. “What about it?”

  “Who is the woman?”

  He screwed up his face, looking at Addison like she was nuts, and then stared back at the house again. “What woman? What are you talking about?”

  Addison pointed. “She’s in the window. Can’t you see her?”

  The man groaned. “It’s not a woman. It’s curtains.”

  “A white curtain with hair? I don’t think so.”

  “Stop playing games. Stop stalling. It won’t work. There’s no one there. No one has lived in that part of the house for decades.”

  “Why not?”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not your business.”

  It may not have been, but there was worry in his eyes, stories he’d refused to tell. She wished she could plug him into an outlet and play his life back on a giant screen. For now, she’d have to wait. She needed to find a different way to get inside the manor walls—a way that didn’t involve him.

  Addison threw her hands in the air. “All right, fine. I’ll leave.”

  “I’ll head down after you and secure the gate with a new lock, just in case you decide to try something like this again.”

  “If you think locking me out will keep me from learning your secrets, you’re wrong.”

  “My secrets?” he said. “Why would you say such a thing? What is it you think you know?”

  Addison opened the car door, looked back, and said, “There’s something troublesome about Sara’s death. There’s more to the accident than what anyone knows. There’s more to this manor, too, and whether you let me in or not, I intend to find out.”

  Addison drove away from the manor with more questions than answers. What were the eerie whispers of warning when she’d arrived? Who was the woman in the window? Why did Cecilia Belle look so frail? Why did it seem she was being held captive in her own house? And who was the grumpy man she’d just encountered? Whatever secrets lingered within Belle Manor, it was clear Sara was just the beginning.

  Addison located the front gate at the end of the driveway and gasped. It was open, just like it had been when she’d driven through minutes before, only this time a woman hovered next to it, staring at Addison like she had expected her arrival.

  It was Josephine, the woman Addison had met in the supermarket. Addison pulled the car to the side of the road, put her window down, and said, “Josephine? What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” Josephine said. “How’s Amara Jane?”

  “She’s perfect.”

  Josephine pressed her hands together like she intended to pray and said, “I knew she would be. Haven’t got her with you now, do you? I was hoping I’d get the chance to see her.”

  Addison shook her head. “She’s at home with her father.”

  Josephine smiled. “I see. Another time, perhaps.”

  “When I saw you in the supermarket, I thought you were ... I mean ... I can sometimes tell the difference between those who are living and those who are ... well ...”

  “Dead? It’s all right. You can say it. I’m well aware of my condition.”

  “Sometimes people aren’t.”

  “Not me. I was deader than a hog in a slaughterhouse last time I checked.”

  “When did you pass away?” Addison asked.

  “Been some time, I imagine. I’ve lost track of just how long. It all blends together now. Day. Night. Time. Hard to tell the difference.”

  “There was something I wanted to ask you if we met again,” Addison said.

  “All right. Sh
oot.”

  “How did you know I’d be able to communicate with you in the grocery store that day?”

  Josephine shrugged. “Guess you could say your daughter told me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Addison said. “She wasn’t even born yet. How could she?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that when you passed me in the aisle, your tummy was all lit up like a firefly under a microscope. I could see your daughter inside of you, and even though it was a bit of a shock, I knew you weren’t like everyone else. You were different. I didn’t know how, but I could tell there was something special about you, something that made you more unique than everyone else. Who are you? Or I guess the better question is, what are you?”

  Addison considered the question. “The easiest explanation would be to say I’m an empath. I see things. Sometimes I see the past, and sometimes I see the present. I can communicate with the dead when they’re in need of me, and I have the ability to make things happen sometimes, things which are, well, magical.”

  “What do the dead need from you?”

  “I help them detach from this world and move on,” Addison said.

  “You’re a unique woman, Addison.”

  “I guess. It doesn’t always feel that way.”

  “I died there, you know, in the grocery store. Had a heart attack on the same aisle you were in when your water broke. Since my death, I’ve been ... well ... I don’t know how to describe it. I’m in a middle place, somewhere between this life and the next. I seem to be stuck here.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “I’ve resisted moving on, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to stay.” She looked down. “Just look at me. I’m wasting away. Soon there will be nothing left of me at all.”

  It was true. Josephine appeared much more translucent than the last time Addison had seen her. Trapped spirits were usually in limbo because of something left unresolved at the time of their death. It seemed Josephine could move on, so why hadn’t she?

  “Could you go to the spirit world if you wanted?” Addison asked.

  “I’m not sure. Sometimes I leave this place.”

  “And go where?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere a lot different.”

  “Different, how?”

  “It’s radiant. Everything is bright and colorful, and there are animals everywhere. I can understand people’s thoughts without them saying a word.”

  “What happens when you’re there?”

  “The same thing every time. I walk toward a door. It’s white. It opens, and I see my father on the other side. He grins and says he’s been waiting for me. He reaches out his hand and asks me to come to him so we can be together again.”

  “And do you?”

  “I don’t. I shake my head and step back. He seems confused. He bows his head, and as the door starts to close, he disappears. Everything around me fades away, and I find myself back here again.”

  “Why don’t you stay there?” Addison asked. “Was something left unresolved when you died?”

  “It may have been,” she said. “I’ve never been one who needs resolution for what occurred in my own life. When it comes to those I care about, it’s a different matter.”

  It was obvious she was hinting at something.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “All these years, I’ve been waiting. I wasn’t sure why. Now I know I was waiting for you. It all makes sense. You are my way back to Sara.”

  “Sara Belle?” Addison said.

  She nodded. “Sara is my granddaughter. I believe she’s the reason I’ve struggled to move on.”

  “Why”

  “Because I can’t forgive myself for what happened on the day she died.”

  “I stopped by the manor to see Sara on the day she died,” Josephine said. “I gave her a stuffed teddy bear I’d bought for her, and she begged me to take her for ice cream. I said I would. Then I remembered I was meant to meet up with a friend. I offered to take Sara for ice cream another day. I’ll never forget the sad look on her face when she didn’t get what she wanted. She wrapped her arms around the bear and buried her face into it, pouting. I felt so bad. The nanny overheard our conversation and offered to take Sara herself. At the time, I was appreciative and relieved, but it ended up being the last time I saw her alive.”

  “You haven’t seen her since you died?” Addison asked. “I would have thought the two of you could reconnect somehow.”

  She shook her head. “I hoped we could be together, and I’ve searched for her. I never found her. You’re the only one I’ve seen in decades.”

  Josephine’s afterlife seemed desolate, and yet she’d stayed, hoping one day to reunite with the granddaughter she’d lost.

  “I’m sorry,” Addison said. “I can only imagine what it’s been like for you all these years.”

  “Aww, well. Maybe I deserve the isolation. Instead of making Sara a priority, I ditched her to meet up with a friend. I’ve had a long while to think about the decisions we make as people, and the way we prioritize things. It’s a shame. I would do anything to make it up to her now. If I would have just taken her for ice cream like she’d wanted, the accident would have been prevented, and she’d still be alive today.”

  Addison didn’t agree.

  “It’s not your fault. There’s no way to know what would have happened. If it wasn’t a car accident, it would have been something else. I’m not sure we can escape our fate.”

  “When I saw you in the store and you saw me, I knew we were meant to connect with each other. I knew you were meant to help me, and I was right. Here you are now, at Sara’s home. Why did you visit the manor today?”

  An eerie feeling diverted Addison’s attention. It felt as though someone was watching from the sidelines, devouring every move she made. And the air had changed, emitting a foul stench of decay.

  “What is it?” Josephine asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. Can you feel it?”

  “Feel what, dear?”

  “The change in the air. It’s colder, and it shouldn’t be, not this cold.”

  Josephine narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure. It all feels the same to me.”

  A gust of wind rustled through the trees, kicking a mass of fall leaves off the branches. The leaves blew through the air, slapping against each other as they fell to the ground. A nearby tree wavered back and forth. Josephine glanced at it and yelled, “Move! Get out of the way! Now!”

  Addison ran toward the car and crouched down on the passenger side. Glancing back, lightning struck one of the trees, igniting the trunk from within. The tree blew apart, exploding into a mass of fragmented pieces. Unsure what to make of it, Addison remained still for a time. She waited for everything to go quiet. Then she stepped out and looked around.

  “Josephine?” Addison said. “Are you still here?”

  “I am,” Josephine replied. “I’m right behind you.”

  Addison turned.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Josephine said. “What do you make of it?”

  “It was a warning. My second one of the day.”

  Josephine looked confused. “The second? When was the first?”

  “I thought I heard something, voices, when I arrived at the manor. Then right before the tree caught fire, you asked me why I came here today. You’re not the only spirit who’s visited me. I’ve seen Sara.”

  Josephine’s eyes widened. “When did you see her? Where?”

  “She visited me in the hospital. I took her hand, and we went back in time, to the day of the car crash. She wanted me to see it. I’m just not sure about all the details yet, or what it all means. She wants to tell me something, but she’s afraid.”

  “What happened after she visited you?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t seen her since.”

  Josephine shook her head. “I can’t believe you relived that fateful day. The accident was shocking and cruel, a gut-wrenchin
g scene for those who witnessed the aftermath of it all. I always thought seeing one of my children die before I did would be a burden too heavy to bear, but my grandchild? What happened to Sara was far worse than anything I could have imagined. Her death brought on an onslaught of events like stacked dominoes. One day everything was in line: the next it all came crashing down. I didn’t just lose a granddaughter that day. I lost my own daughter as well, mentally at least. She was never the same again.”

  “I saw Cecilia at the manor today.”

  “Oh? How is she?”

  “She seemed off, detached from actual life. She tried to invite me in and was shot down by a man whose only goal was to send me away as soon as I arrived.”

  “What man?”

  “I don’t know,” Addison said. “He wouldn’t give me his name.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He was older, late seventies, I’d guess. He had a beard and a fair bit of weight on him. Not too much, but he wasn’t thin.”

  She shook her head. “Hmm. Could be Lawrence, I suppose. When I was around him, he was as fit as a man could be. That was many years ago, though. Time may not have been kind to him.”

  Addison wished Josephine could have given her insight into the man’s identity, but apparently Josephine had passed away long ago. The man could be anyone from Josephine’s time or after her death. Addison couldn’t provide more information—like a unique characteristic that Josephine might remember—because other than a snotty behavior, the man really had none. “What happened after Sara died? How did things change?”

  “My daughter’s zest for life diminished each day until it no longer existed. She became a recluse. If you had known her before the accident, you wouldn’t have recognized the woman she became after Sara’s death. There was a time when she was the biggest socialite in the city. Sara’s death changed her, as it would any mother. Sucked the life right out of her. She lost her identity, relying on her husband for everything. She locked herself inside the manor, shutting herself away from family and friends.”

  All these years later, not much had changed, and yet Cecilia had hung on.

  Josephine studied Addison’s face, reading her thoughts.

  “My daughter attempted suicide at least three times after Sara died,” Josephine said. “The first month after Sara’s death I visited her every day, trying to lift her spirits, get her out of bed and interested in life again. I thought it helped, until the day I showed up and was turned away.”