The Haunting of Hillwood Farm

by Kathryn Knight

  Chapter 22

  He swam toward the bank, his muscles churning through the water, fueled by adrenaline and fear. Was she really okay? He summoned another burst of speed, desperate to get her to shore. When it got too shallow to swim, he scooped her up and carried her. Gram waded in, her hands fluttering with the need to help, but there was nothing she could do but murmur to Callie as he lurched awkwardly up the bank. A few feet away from the pond, he laid her down on the grass and dropped to his knees beside her. Gram knelt on her other side.

  “Please be okay,” he rasped, smoothing her wet hair away from her frighteningly pale face.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted in the glare of the sun. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice weak but steady.

  He shifted, positioning his body to shade her face. “Are you sure? Just rest.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently.

  “I’ll go get towels and blankets,” said Gram, pushing herself up to standing. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  “Yes,” he replied, at exactly the same time as Callie said, “No.” He ground his teeth together. “Just bring your phone with you when you come back, Gram. Okay? Mine is somewhere in the pond, and I’m sure Callie’s is too.” He knew he should be the one running up to the house to grab what they needed—he was faster and the hill was steep. But he just wasn’t going to leave Callie’s side. Not happening.

  Callie rolled toward him, grabbing his arm. Her eyes were wide, the whites tinged with a network of pink lines. “There’s a car. In the pond.”

  “I know, honey. I saw it go in. It’s okay.”

  She shook her head, her cold fingertips pressing into his flesh. “No, not mine. Another car.”

  “What?” The slam of a car door echoed from up near the house, and he glanced to the top of the hill. Cursing inwardly, he blew out a breath. His parents were here. He turned back to Callie. “Just lie back, okay?”

  She ignored him. “There’s another car down there! I saw it, when we were sinking. It has to be Blair’s. She said she was here, and that’s what she meant. In the pond!”

  What? What did she mean, when we were sinking? “Slow down, honey. Take a breath.”

  Nodding, she gulped in air, keeping her gaze on his. “Blair’s ghost was in the backseat of my car. She took control of my car, and drove it into the pond. The brakes wouldn’t work. The doors wouldn’t open.” Her voice broke on a sob, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

  Fury built as she relayed the details of her ordeal, and he had to keep reminding himself not to clench her hand too hard as his muscles tensed. Behind him, he could hear the buzz of frantic conversation as his parents and Gram hurried down the hill. Callie struggled to sit up as they approached, and he bit down on the urge to argue, helping support her instead.

  “Oh my God!” his mother cried, clutching at her chest. High-heeled shoes dangled from her other hand. “Is everyone all right?”

  Gram waved her cell phone. “We need to call an ambulance,” she said as she thrust it into John’s hand, taking a blanket from him in exchange. She circled around behind Callie and settled it around her shoulders.

  Callie shook her head as she clutched at the blanket. “No, we need to call the police. There’s a car in the pond. Another car, I mean, besides mine. I think it belongs to Blair, and I think her body is inside it.”

  A chorus of gasps and questions blended into one another, until his mother raised her voice above the din. “What makes you think that, Callie?”

  “She’s a psychic, Mom. We asked you both to come over here tonight so we could tell you everything that’s been going on. I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but Hillwood is being haunted by a very…violent ghost.” He decided not to mention Pop for now. “We have reason to believe it’s Blair. That’s she’s dead, and her body is here,” he finished grimly, nodding toward the pond.

  “That’s not possible,” his mother insisted in a strange tone that seemed to dare someone to challenge her assertion.

  His father cleared his throat. “Yes, it is.”

  A stunned silence fell around them. Luke finally broke it. “What do you mean, Dad? Do you know something about Blair?”

  John shot a look at his wife. “If you don’t tell them, I will. It’s time.”

  Cynthia’s expression hardened as she stared at him. “John…” She trailed off with a heavy sigh.

  Gram held up her hands. “Clearly, we all have a lot to talk about. But not here. Callie’s been through a horrible accident, and she’s soaked. Let’s all go up to the house, get her some dry clothes, and then we can decide what to do. And who to call.”

  As usual, once she’d made up her mind, Gram’s voice held that steely conviction her family rarely argued with. Luke helped Callie up, and they all made their way back up the hill.

  Chapter 23

  As Callie lowered herself into the chair, she had an eerie sense of déjà vu. Here she was again, exhausted after a traumatic event, sitting in the farmhouse, a hot toddy in front of her. This time she was at the dining table, a repeat of the family dinner except for the absence of Ryan. And there was no food on the table, just the drinks Alice had made for everyone. She noticed that John and Cynthia just had tumblers of whiskey instead of the warm mixture in her mug. Both of Luke’s parents looked miserable, faces drawn, mouths tight.

  “Mom and Dad, I think you should start,” Luke said. “We need to hear what you know about Blair.”

  He’d pulled her chair right next to his, and his arm was slung around her shoulders in a protective embrace. She leaned into his body, beyond caring what anyone thought.

  John and Cynthia exchanged a glance, and then Cynthia turned toward her son. “You have to understand, Luke. We didn’t want this to affect you.”

  “What, exactly?”

  John touched his wife’s arm before taking a swig of his drink. “I’ll do it.”

  Cynthia sniffled, nodding.

  “It was early March, when Mom and Pop—Alice and Henry—were on the cruise.” John gestured toward Alice. “And Luke was staying here, taking care of the animals.” He brought his gaze back to Luke. “One evening, you called to ask if your mother or I could come by the farm, to let the dog out. You had something for work, and you didn’t think Petey could make it until you got home without going out.”

  “I remember.” Luke’s fingers tightened on her shoulder.

  “We came over together, I’d say it was around 5:30. And when we parked, we heard a noise coming from inside the garage. An engine, running.” John paused for another drink. “We went in to check.”

  Callie glanced at Luke. She could see he knew where this was going, as did she, and dread pulsed through her.

  “Blair’s car was in there, and she was inside. Dead. It was suicide, Luke, no question. On her lap was a note that said, ‘Dear Luke, look what you did’.”

  Callie’s stomach heaved. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  Luke remained silent, his expression stony.

  “I don’t know how she got in,” John continued. “Maybe a door was open, or a window. Knowing her, she could have stolen a key and copied it. But we didn’t want you to find her there, and we didn’t want you to know what she’d done.”

  “So you…drove her car into the lake?”

  “You would have blamed yourself!” Cynthia stifled a sob, her manicured fingers covering her mouth.

  Luke tensed. “You don’t know what I would have done. This was about you. You didn’t want anyone to know.”

  Cynthia slapped her hands down on the table. “That girl put you through hell. She ruined all our lives for months. We were not going to let her do it forever. It was her choice to kill herself, and that decision was not something that should have any impact on our family.”

  Callie hesitated for a beat, then plunged in, hoping to keep things between Luke and his mother from escalating. “So, Blair was angry that Luke wasn’t the one to find her, after everything she’d planned. Angry that
he didn’t even know she was dead, and that her body had been hidden. And then I showed up here, and her rage just spiraled. I became the perfect target.”

  Confusion clouded both of Luke’s parents’ faces, and she realized they really didn’t know the rest of the story—the dual haunting, or the deadly situations their actions had unleashed. A wave of weariness swept over her, and she turned to Luke for help.

  John cleared his throat. “So you expect us to believe Blair’s ghost has been haunting this place since she died?”

  A muscle in Luke’s jaw twitched. “I don’t expect you to believe anything. I’ll tell you both exactly what’s been happening, though. I realize you don’t really know Callie, but you do know Gram and me, so you should keep that in mind while you’re listening to what we have to say.”

  As Luke spoke, Callie took small sips of her drink, letting the honey and whiskey spread warmth through her bones. Her body ached and her mind felt woozy, but she was strangely alert, as though she’d traveled so far beyond exhaustion, she’d come full circle back to wide awake. She was content to let Alice and Luke relate the details of the past few weeks, and she only answered questions addressed directly to her. But she chimed in toward the end of the surreal story, when Henry’s name came up again.

  “I think Henry’s death was so sudden, and so far away from home, that he just wasn’t ready to move on. His spirit was drawn to Hillwood, his lifelong home, the place where his wife still lived. When he encountered Blair’s ghost here, he realized she meant to make trouble for his family. And then he had to stay, to try to protect his loved ones from the anger and vengeance he sensed was coming.”

  “And he saved you,” Luke said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “You both saved me.”

  Cynthia wiped at her moist eyes, leaving smoky trails of smeared mascara. “What now? Do we have to call the police?”

  “I think we do,” Luke said, reaching for Callie’s hand.

  “This won’t be good for the family,” Cynthia said. “Your father’s practice…”

  Alice’s mug thumped against the table as she set it down. “I’ll take the blame. What can they do to an old woman?”

  Luke shook his head. “Gram, you weren’t even here when it happened. And we’re not letting you do that anyway.”

  “Blame it on me. It was my idea, and that’s the truth. I pushed John into it.” Cynthia’s tone turned defiant. “I was trying to protect my son.”

  John dragged his hand over his haggard face. “We both were. We were in shock.”

  “Oh, John.” Alice sighed, resting her elbows on the table and cradling her head in her hands.

  “I’ll take the blame,” Cynthia repeated.

  “Failure to report a body is a misdemeanor, at most. But…I know people in high places. We didn’t kill anyone. We’ll get it figured out, quickly and quietly.”

  “Will it…be over then? The haunting?” Alice asked, her voice wavering.

  All four of them turned their gazes on Callie, and she shrugged, squirming in her seat. “Um…I don’t think she cares about legalities. She killed herself. I think what really matters is giving her a proper burial. Reuniting her with her family. And recognizing the pain she was in.” She glanced at Luke. “Maybe Luke can go to her funeral and say goodbye, and offer a few kind words.”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “You can’t be serious.” He paused, blowing out a breath. “No, you’re right. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe.”

  “I think it will work,” she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze back.

  “I hope so. Mom and Dad, I need you to stay with Gram for now, though. Either here or at your place. I’m taking Callie to the hospital. You all can start making calls.”

  “No, Luke. I’m fine, really.”

  He turned to her, his blue eyes dark with worry. “Callie, I need to know you’re okay. I mean, I need to hear it from a doctor.” He cupped his palm around her cheek. “Please. I love you, and I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her breath hitched. Had he really just said he loved her? In front of his family? Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his handsome face momentarily. Swallowing, she blinked them away. “I love you, too.”

  The scrape of Alice’s chair preceded her voice. “Let’s give them a few minutes,” she suggested, ushering John and Cynthia out of the room.

  Chapter 24

  Callie was lying on the bed in her room at Hillwood, playing a word game on her phone and waiting for Luke’s call, when the voice murmured in her head. Henry’s voice.

  She’s gone.

  Callie froze, nerves crackling like live wires. Did that mean what she hoped it meant? Today was Blair’s funeral, and Luke was in Florida, doing his part to try to put her to rest for once and all. Mrs. Adams had made the arrangements, and when he’d told her he intended to fly down for the service, he’d asked if he could also say a few words.

  He’d wanted Callie to travel with him at first, but they’d both realized it was a bad idea. It was only one night, and although nothing strange or frightening had happened since the pond incident, neither of them wanted Alice to be alone at Hillwood, just in case. And they agreed the less Callie was involved in this part of encouraging Blair to move on, the better.

  “I’m listening,” she whispered into the silence of the room.

  I…go too now. The words faded in and out, like a bad cell phone connection, and her head pulsed with a corresponding ache. But she didn’t think the lack of clarity was due to another spirit’s interference. It felt different, as though Henry himself was fading, losing strength finally after his efforts to hang on so long.

  Tell…love them. Tell Alice she will always…love of my life.

  Her phone rang, and she nearly levitated off the bed. “I will, Henry. I will. Rest in peace now, and thank you.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before sliding her finger across the screen. “Hi,” she said a bit breathlessly, praying he would confirm what his Pop had just told her.

  “Everything okay there, beautiful?”

  Her heart swelled at the sound of Luke’s voice. “Yes. How did it go?”

  “It went well,” he said, exhaling. The sound of a car starting floated through the phone. “The service was nice. I stood up and said everything we discussed. I hope it worked.”

  She sat up, turning to peer out the window. Shafts of evening sunlight broke through the clouds to stretch across the surface of the pond. “I think it did.”

  Although he told her not to, she waited up for him to return home. Wrapped in a blanket, she sat on the farmhouse porch, listening to the sounds of the night around her. Moths danced around the outdoor lights, mimicking the butterflies tumbling through her stomach. After so much time spent together, just being away from Luke for one night had felt like torture. She didn’t want to think about what would happen now, though. The danger—hopefully—was over. Her apartment would be ready in a few weeks. The circumstances that had held them together would no longer exist. What would happen then?

  Headlights swept up the driveway, and she jumped from the rocking chair, sending it swaying wildly. Her bare feet padded softly against the weathered boards as she rounded the corner and flew down the steps.

  The door to his truck slammed, and he caught her in his arms as they met at the edge of the side porch stairs. Wordlessly, he lifted her into the air, burying his face in her neck.

  “I’m so happy you’re home!” she cried, breathing in his scent.

  “Me too, beautiful. God, I missed you.” He set her down and kissed her hungrily. “I told you not to wait up, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough. “Let’s go upstairs.” He pulled her toward the house.

  She laughed. “Do you want to maybe get your bag?”

  “It’s not high on my priority list.” But he released her and strode around to the backseat of the truck. “Don’t go an
ywhere.”

  “I won’t.”

  When he returned, he set his duffle bag on the pavement and took both her hands in his. In the shadowy light, his playful expression turned serious. “Callie, I don’t want this to end. I’m glad the bad stuff is over, but I don’t want this to be over.” He squeezed her fingers. “You and me.”

  Her chest contracted. She didn’t know what to say. Even if she did, she wasn’t sure she could speak. Somehow she’d let herself fall, despite the danger to her heart. And now, she would have to make an agonizing choice. His words filled her with both joy and fear, and she trembled as her emotions battled.

  “I want us to be together,” he added, dipping his head to meet her gaze.

  She swallowed. “I want that too. But I’m scared.”

  “I know. But you’re the bravest woman I know. And the kindest, smartest, and funniest.” He pulled her into an embrace, trailing his lips over her ear. “And the sexiest.”

  She shivered with pleasure even as uncertainty coursed through her. He wanted their relationship to continue. To grow. This was her chance to stop it before it went any further. She could walk away—accept the pain now rather than risk absolute devastation if something bad happened in the future.

  If she ended it now, she’d be hurting him, too. But didn’t he deserve better than her? She pulled away until she could look up into his face. “We’ve only known each other a few weeks,” she pointed out.

  “We’ve been through more in the past three weeks than most couples go through in a year. And we’ll get closer with every day we spend together.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

  “I’ve got some of my own, remember? But it’s all out in the open already. We can handle it.” He rubbed his hand across her back. “Callie, you’re not going to come up with an argument to change my mind.”

  “I won’t travel on highways in bad weather,” she blurted out.