by Dana Pratola
Renewed panic set in. I had to hide! What if it was a man? A violent man, maybe an escaped inmate from…. Were there any prisons around here? He might be armed and intent on rape! Yes, I may have watched too many movies in my time, but people got those ideas from somewhere.
My gaze landed on the basket of laundry. I didn’t want anyone to see that. While everything else in the house belonged to the former occupants and could attest to people of either sex living here, the clothes in the basket were clearly those of a female.
I grabbed up the basket and fled down the hall, my eyes shooting to each corner, searching for anything I may have left lying around, before I charged up the stairs. I usually spent my time on the second floor since it allowed a better vantage point to watch for arrivals.
Just as I got to the top of the steps, I heard the truck at the front of the house. It came to a stop, the motor turned off, but I heard nothing after that except the pounding of my heart. I shoved the basket in the hall linen closet and darted into the bedroom overlooking the front yard. I’d chosen the smallest bedroom for my own, since it was the only room with an inside lock on the door, and double windows opening onto the front porch roof for an easy escape. I hoped I wouldn’t have to make use of it.
As I neared a half-open window, I heard two men, their voices low and unhurried, probably not fugitives from justice with rape or murder on their minds. I strained to hear what they were saying, but I didn’t want to risk being seen by opening the window all the way. I’d have to wait it out.
*****
“Tell me what it looks like,” I told Ben. “I at least want to be able to imagine it while I’m stumbling around.”
“Okay…well … it’s not a big house, maybe a quarter of yours. It’s sort of light blue with green in it. Or greenish with blue.”
“Mm.”
“There’s a front porch that wraps around the left side, with lattice so it’s partially enclosed.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Is there a well in the front yard? A big oak tree on the side of the house?”
Ben gripped my arm. “Crap! You can see!”
“No.” I sighed. “Don’t tell me you set me up in the old Wagoner house.”
“Why? What’s wrong with the Wagoner house?”
“For one thing, they say it’s haunted. Three people were murdered here.”
“What’s another thing?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Come on,” Ben said. “That happened years ago, and the real story is none of the deaths took place inside the house, only on the property. Hey, would the family keep it and rent it out if it was haunted?”
“To make a buck? Sure.”
“Since when do you believe in ghosts?”
I didn’t. Not ghosts, no, but I knew demons could hang around the scene of terrible despair, maybe have been the cause in the first place depending on the people who lived there. There was no statute of limitations on how long they stayed. I knew nothing about the Wagoners other than three of them had been murdered in various ways on different parts of the property. At least that’s how the legend went.
“There aren’t a whole lot of options for you,” Ben said. “You won’t stay with Pastor, or any of the church family who offer—”
“The last thing I need is someone hovering.”
“You mean seeing you like this,” Ben argued.
The words hit me in the gut. Yeah. Exactly what I meant.
“So, until you get over your pride, or vanity, this place makes the most sense. It’s the only space available this close to the hospital.”
He had me there. I couldn’t be picky when I’d refused so many other offers. “I know. And thanks. I don’t mean to be testy.”
Ben gave my shoulder a nudge. “I’d say you have more than enough right to be testy, given the circumstances.”
Well, if I started thinking that way, I’d be feeling sorry for myself before long. Ben got out of the truck and I opened my door, then waited for him to come around to help me out. I put my foot out, stretched it toward the ground, but it seemed to keep going as rain pelted my head, shoulders, and back.
At last, my foot touched earth and I brought the other one down to join it. Ben placed a hand on my chest and I heard his feet crunching gravel as he opened the back door of the extended cab and closed it again.
“I picked up what I thought you’d need. Toiletries, clothes, towels, your music, and headphones.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Your Bible. Oh, and a portable charger for your phone.”
“Why do I need most of that? I can’t see to use it.”
I knew that came out as bitter. Also, that he understood it wasn’t aimed at him. Hell, I hadn’t been blind long enough to be bitter. Maybe afraid was the correct word. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“I think I can help with that,” Ben said. “There’s a program for your phone. I’ll show you how to use it so you can make calls.”
We took several steps toward the undoubtedly haunted house.
“The place comes furnished,” he said.
“At least tell me it’s not the Wagoner’s stuff.”
Ben chuckled. “Nah.”
He didn’t sound sure, though what difference did it make at this point? He took my arm and we walked up the steps.
“Almost there,” Ben said. “Just one thing though. There’s no bathroom on the first floor.”
“Wonderful.”
“I know, but it’s right at the top of the stairs. We’ll set you all up, don’t worry.”
The groan of the front door creeped me out and I stepped into a musty cloud of sadness and despair. Though in all honesty, I’d probably brought it with me. Actually, the house didn’t smell all that bad. Sure, this might have been the setting for unspeakable tragedy, but it was just a house.
The smell of rain helped, washing away some of the stagnant air. A light breeze blew across my face, telling me there were windows open somewhere inside.
“I’m glad you opened windows. I can’t stand stuffy air,” I said.
“Uh, I meant to. Didn’t have a chance to get here between running out to your place, the Realtor, then stopping at the electric company to have the power turned on. Must’ve been Barry. I asked him to swing by to see things were sound. No raccoons living in the kitchen, no holes in the roof.”
He paused as I stood there, dark and silent.
“Hey Josiah, it’s all going to be okay. This is only temporary.”
He only used my first name when he was worried. In my head, I nodded, but couldn’t bring myself to perform the motion outwardly.
“Come in here and sit. I’ll hook you up,” he said.
He steered me to what I assume was the parlor. When my shins bumped against something relatively soft, I turned and sat. Along with the smell of dust, a spring rose up to greet me and I moved over a cushion.
“You okay? You all right there?” Ben asked.
“I’m fine, stop babying me.”
I heard him walk away, steps hastened in his relief to be away from me, or excitement to have me settled. Either way, I sat there listening to every sound I could pick up. The birds, his footsteps, the rustle of something indistinct, more footsteps, more birds. Unless I had forgotten how my ears worked, I was hearing better. The doctor mentioned this might happen, though I’d assumed he meant after I’d been blind for a long period of time. God forbid.
I was already bored. As a driven person, a go-getter, how could I deal with being bored all the time? When I took the pain killers it didn’t much matter where I was, but I’d decided not to take them anymore. I’d stayed in the hospital three days longer than I’d intended and been zoned out the whole while. I’d still take the steroids because I needed to heal, but the pain meds…. I hated being loopy and disconnected, the main reason I hadn’t had a drink of alcohol since my seventeenth birthday.
“Okay, starting with the serious stuff,” Ben said, sitting beside me.
>
I heard something lightweight drop to the couch, then the double beep notifying me my cell phone was charging.
“I’m going to download an app for you,” he said.
“The book thing? Good.” I could at least listen to some audiobooks or my music.
“No—well, yes, that too. This app helps blind people use the phone.”
My teeth clenched. I really hated being referred to as a blind person.
“My sister’s friend, Sarah, is blind. Swears by this,” Ben said. “I’ve seen her use it, looks pretty simple. Sounds and voices tell you what to do and if you’re doing something wrong. There’s vibration, too.”
He downloaded it, spent the next hour making sure I had it right, then took another twenty minutes giving me a tour of the first floor, making sure I knew where to find the refrigerator, bowls, plates, etcetera, as well as the basement and back doors.
I vowed not to get too frustrated as he led me around, finally to the staircase leading to the second floor. I planned to spend the night on the lumpy sofa, so had no need to explore the bedrooms. If my eyesight didn’t return in a few days, I’d just go home. Damaged and unemployed. For now, though, I would need to use the bathroom.
I gripped the smooth handrail, which gave slightly as I started up with Ben at my side. The stairs flexed, creaking under our weight, one, in particular, protesting louder than the others, before resettling.
“Old house,” Ben said.
“Right.”
“Over a hundred years, I hear.”
“Great.”
“The bathroom’s here, as soon as you come up, ahead to the left a little bit.”
Ben let me find the way myself, feeling around the tiny space for the sink, toilet, and shower. He’d put everything I’d need in easy reach. I thought I had it pretty well memorized.
“Your pain pills are…. Where are your pills?” Ben asked.
“In my pocket,” I said, tapping them.
I didn’t tell him I probably wouldn’t be taking them anymore. I say probably, because now that we’d climbed the staircase my head was beginning to throb. No one mentioned how much having holes drilled into my skull would hurt. The nurse said the pain would be like having a headache. From personal experience, I likened it more to having holes drilled into my skull. The itching around the incisions was another story.
“Your other medication is here,” Ben said, rattling the bottle. “In the medicine cabinet.”
“Why are you arranging stuff everywhere like I live here?” I asked. “I don’t live here. Can’t we just leave everything in a pile downstairs?”
“Uh … yeah, I guess. Just trying to help,” Ben said. “You know, trying to….”
“Make everything seem normal,” I finished for him.
His hesitation told me he was feeling sorry for me again. Also, he was stalling, not wanting to tell me he had to go. I wasn’t looking forward to being alone out here, but I couldn’t handle being around anyone else now, and I understood he had business and family obligations to return to. He’d already taken too much time out of his life helping me.
“I’ll be fine, Ben. Go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I’m not as slow as you think I am. I’ll get along fine. If I need anything, I’ll call you.”
“You remember how?” he asked.
“Yeah, I got it.”
Ben’s feet shuffled. “Well, let me at least read the discharge sheet to you once more.”
“I know, no lying flat, no stooping, pushing or lifting, no alcohol.”
“You shouldn’t even be sitting on that wreck of a sofa. You need support.”
“I’ll be fine,” I told him. “At the very least I give you permission to have yeah, he warned me, chiseled into my headstone.”
“Very funny,” Ben said. “Okay, I’ll be back later on tonight. Jill’s making stuffed peppers for dinner. I’ll bring you some, and more provisions.” He took my arm again. “Let’s go back down.”
CHAPTER 3
The fear they might hear my ragged breathing only made it worse! Losing it was putting it mildly. Two men were in my house—Josiah and Ben, I heard each refer to the other. Okay, it wasn’t my house, but I had been living here alone, undisturbed for a couple months. I knew I had to leave eventually, but it would be my decision, when I had money laid aside to rent an apartment.
Ben’s truck drove off and I had to admit I was concerned for the guy with the bandage on his head. Josiah. He was blind! And being abandoned. Well, Ben seemed nice enough and genuinely concerned too, but essentially, he’d just dumped his friend here. In my lap! For how long?
From what I overheard, Josiah had just been released from the hospital and his stay here was only temporary. Had he rented the place month-to-month, or signed a year lease? Either one could be considered temporary. What would I do until he left?
I sat on the bedroom floor to lessen the chance of making noise. The dried wood planks in this old house were noisy and I wondered how acute Josiah’s hearing was. I wondered a lot of things, like what was wrong with him. That was a pretty serious bandage on his head. Had he fallen, or been hit in the head with something? Maybe a car accident. Or maybe he was a soldier, wounded in some foreign country. No, that couldn’t be. The man was blind. In any event, it was sad. Sadder still that he didn’t have someplace else to go. I knew all about that.
I laid on my stomach, pressing my ear to the floor, but only heard the growling of my empty stomach. The men’s arrival had caused me to totally bypass my typical self-loathing crying jag, which always left me nauseous, and had launched me straight into ravenous.
That reminded me, if Josiah found his way to the cabinets, he might discover my food. He couldn’t see, but if he opened the bags of potato chips and pretzels, he would find them fresh, not left long ago by a former tenant. I had to get my stuff.
Pushing myself up to hands and knees, I crawled to the door, berating myself for leaving anything downstairs. I had to stop playing house and accept that I really was homeless. I had no business storing food in cabinets like I lived here when I could just heap it all in a corner of the room, like a proper trespasser.
I turned the knob and pulled the door slowly. Why hadn’t I noticed before how deafening that creeeeaaaak was? I guess because I hadn’t had to sneak around like a mouse until today. I paused, listening for any movement at all. Nothing. Still, I waited a minute before continuing on, sliding my right hand and knee out ahead, then the left, repeating until I got to the top of the stairs. The board beneath my left knee let out a tiny sigh. I stopped again.
Then I heard it. A sound. A small sound, like part of a word, or … humming. He was humming. Well, that was good. It pinpointed his location and would help cover the sounds made by this strange house.
I slid my legs to the side and scooted to the edge of the landing, lowering my feet two treads below. One at a time, I descended the steps on my butt, my feet touching down softly below, all the while spying through the balusters for my uninvited guest. At the bottom, the stairs emptied into a wide foyer and after that, just to the right, the extra wide entry to the living room.
Josiah lay on the couch fifteen feet away, hands linked across his stomach, one foot on the floor, the other hanging over the arm, bobbing to whatever tune played through the headphones in his ears. Fantastic. I could walk into the kitchen and grab my food without fear of discovery.
I turned toward the kitchen and started along the short hallway, walking backward to keep an eye on him as I passed through an empty space probably once used as a sitting room. He kept humming and tapping his foot.
I took great care opening the cabinet and taking the bags out, suddenly becoming aware how noisy inflated snack bags were. First the bedroom door, now this. I moved as carefully as possible, making sure I had a firm grip on the shiny plastic, closed the door until it almost clicked shut, turned … and bumped a bag into the counter.
Instantly, I heard a movement be
hind me and spun around. Josiah was still on the couch, but sitting up, both feet on the floor, head cocked.
“Hello,” he said.
I held my breath and my heart beat hard into my ribs, my pulse gathering and tightening in my jaw just below my ears.
“Who’s there?”
My hands instantly trembled and I didn’t know if I could keep from shaking the bags. I pulled them close to my chest and started forward, toward him. I would be fine if he stayed put.
Of course, he got to his feet, pulling the headphones from his ears and dropping them behind him on the couch.
“Who’s there? Ben?”
I froze, hoping he couldn’t hear every cell in my body screaming out with the slam of adrenaline. He just stood there, his dark eyes staring unseeing in my direction as I tried to keep my breath from erupting in what would certainly be a loud, spontaneous bubble of hysteria.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he sensed my presence and was waiting for me to crack, second after long second. Just when I thought I would lose it, he sat, his brows drawn together in fear or confusion. I know I would freak out if I couldn’t see someone.
I was terrified to move for fear the floor would give me away, and he was still on alert, so I gripped the stovetop with one hand and lowered myself onto a yellow metal stool, hoping it didn’t make a sound.
It seemed like an hour passed before he felt around for his headphones, reinserted them in his ears and eased back onto the couch. Just to be safe, I waited another few minutes before forcing my legs to make my way back to the stairs.
I had to turn my back to him to climb the steps, moving at an excruciatingly slow pace, carrying the bags, but he remained still. Once I made it into my room, I closed the door—that took almost a minute with the creaking—and locked it. I needed a plan.
