Having seen pretty much every room in the house at this point, she even peeked at the basement, which was confirmed to be all dirt and brick. It was a huge space. Once finished it would take up the entire length and width of the house. They seem to have built the place on a huge hole in the ground, which would explain the uneven stairs. While she was down there, she didn’t go to the very back, but she did see that there looked to be some type of animal droppings. Her best guess was that a neighborhood cat broke in at some point over the years, or maybe a raccoon or two. That will need remediation as well; animal feces carry all sorts of diseases. Jotting that down on her handy pocket list she headed back upstairs without really looking too much farther past the feces. Besides, it would likely look different after being jacked up by the contractors.
She spent a good amount of time in what she dubbed the library. Of course, every big house has its own library; in the movies anyway. She found ledgers for what looked like an old hospital, possibly some medical records, but they were all in French and, though she had many skills, speaking a foreign language was not one of them. She set them aside to take to the public library later. Hopefully, I can find a translator, she thought. She also hoped that the papers could shed light on the house’s former owners or even the ones prior.
She found some old photo albums, which were so old that some of the photos crumbled under her touch. Not wanting to risk them all, she set those aside as well, thinking she could have them laminated to keep them safe. One of the photos was dated back to 1895 and held the face of a beautiful woman or young girl, it was hard to tell, she wore a mask, the kind you typically see in old movies.
The photo was old, but the girl definitely had curls in her hair and it was pinned up with a small bonnet, and ringlets on the sides. She wore what looked to be a very fancy dress for the time. It had ruffles on the end of the sleeves, that Mariah thought denoted youth. She looked beautiful, but her eyes were sad. Wondering what her name was, Mariah set that specific photo inside her small pad of paper with all the notes, wrote “Name?” next to it, and then moved on to the next room. She assumed it had been the master bedroom.
Mariah had purposely avoided this room for the simple purpose that it creeped her out. The walls were a dark grey color and not unlike the rest of the house, lacked any character. A massive four-poster bed dominated the room, with a curtain surrounding the entire thing. At the very end, there was what looked like a small mesh window or screen of some sort in the curtains. Maybe whoever slept here liked to be able to see out, or someone needed to see in. She honestly wasn’t sure if she cared to know. The room in general just felt wrong. There were no drawers, no cabinets, nothing that would hold any kind of personal belongings. Just a dark room with a huge creepy bed in the middle.
Walking through the room made Mariah want to take shower. She shook up a ton of dust opening the curtains on the bed, and the ones covering the windows. The natural light in the room made it look slightly less frightening, but it was still an eerie space. She couldn’t see why anyone would want to sleep there. It was dull enough to drive you crazy, not in the silly kind of way, but in the straitjacket kind of way. The room could use some patterned wallpaper and a few vintage pieces of furniture to liven it up. She wrote that down on her note pad and then headed back to her room to get ready for bed. Tomorrow was the day Greg was coming to jack the foundation and begin repairs. She found that unbelievably exciting.
CHAPTER FIVE
Greg arrived bright and early with his crew of ten men. Some older and some younger. It looked as though it was a family business. One guy looked like he was not more than eighteen.
They got right to work, each taking a section of the property, drilling and banging things for hours. Mariah decided to wander around the grounds for a while to give them space to work. It was around three in the afternoon when she stepped back into view of the house, just in time to see the final push as the entire house shifted, and then it was straight. The foundation was level, or as level as it was going to get for now anyway. Next, it just needed to be repaired.
She headed back towards the house with a new bounce in her step. This house was going to be amazing when it was finished; “Take that Liza,” she said to herself.
Mariah walked around the perimeter of the house with Greg and they talked about the steps that were going to be taken to repair the foundation. As she suspected, it looked like they built the house over a big hole. The original foundation was brick and wood, which did not at all surprise her seeing that the entire driveway was brick, as well. Greg estimated it would be about two weeks to complete the foundation assuming they didn’t run into any huge issues. Mariah expected issues. The house is mammoth, ancient, and practically decrepit. They would run into problems, it was just a matter of when, where, what and how many.
After the men left for the day, Mariah settled back into wandering around the house. On the third floor, there were two bedrooms. Past the stairs was a room that housed a telescope that pointed directly out the window toward the back of the house. She found it disheartening because from what she could tell, you can’t see the sky from that room, it’s all trees, huge trees that tower well over the house.
Touching the telescope gently Mariah pointed it as high as it could go and then stuck her eye right up to the lens. There was nothing, just trees. Why would someone want to look at trees through a telescope? Mariah moved the telescope as low as she could, and then positioned her eye back to the lens. She could see part of the pond she had discovered the other day and some of the tiny huts. Interesting, she thought. Boring, but interesting.
There was one other thing in the room with the telescope, a big wooden cabinet with marvelous engravings all over it. There was a weird symbol, a rather large O, with a strike through it. On each end of the strike, there was a tiny o. Mariah thought it could be the initial for Oakley, maybe the family crest. If so, that’s a shitty crest, she thought. She dusted it off with her bare hands and pulled the cabinet doors open. Only it didn’t open.
She pulled and shook the doors as hard as she could. There was no keyhole, so it shouldn’t be locked. She poked around the outside, thinking maybe there was a button or something that you push to open it. She reached under the bottom hoping to find a latch of some kind but found nothing. Feeling behind the cabinet as far as she could reach, continuing to look for a latch, Mariah suddenly felt it, a sharp searing pain in her hand. She yanked her hand back from the cabinet, cradling it in her arms like a crying baby, she assessed the situation. All she could see through the swelling was two small puncture marks. A spider, she thought. She was bit by what looks like an enormous spider. From the way it was burning she could tell it was venomous. Reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her cell phone Mariah did what any normal person would do; called her mom.
After telling her mother what happened and being chastised for two full minutes before being told to hang up and call 911, she hopped online to google spider bites. Then feeling certain she was going to die, Mariah called 911.
She explained what happened to the lady on the phone, and the operator told her not to mess with the bite. She asked Mariah to see if she could find the culprit and if possible, catch it. Mariah explained that the cabinet was far too heavy for her to move, so instead the operator sent her to sit on the front porch to wait for the ambulance to arrive. By the time she had gotten down the stairs, and grabbed her purse with her keys, she had begun to feel sick and light-headed. Mariah sat and waited as the ambulance sirens grew closer.
The Paramedics were nice. One lady worked on her hand while a young man went upstairs to hunt down the vicious spider that tried to kill her. Mariah knew she was being dramatic, but she had never felt anything like that in her life. The woman paramedic joked with her and tried to keep her spirits up as another set some gauze on Mariah’s hand. She was pretty, her name was Olivia. She had big blue eyes, with pale skin almost devoid of color, and long beautiful blonde hair that ran down her back.
Mariah knew she probably shouldn’t, but she was tempted to ask for her phone number.
The other paramedic, that Mariah had since learned was named Austin, returned about ten minutes later with a small specimen jar and the evil spider that had bitten her.
“Brown recluse,” he said loudly so his partners could hear.
“Ewww,” one of them yelled back. Then she turned to Mariah and informed her of the nasty night she was in for.
“As long as that thing dies in the process, I’ll be okay,” Mariah sputtered as her eyes started to water and she began to dry heave. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she winced.
Olivia’s partner, Alice, handed her a small bag and strapped her onto the gurney. As they were pulling away from the house Mariah’s stomach exploded into the bag, one dreadful heave after the other. Looking up from the bag and back at her house as it faded from view, she saw just for a moment what she thought was a light on in the attic window, and someone standing there. She was sure she must be hallucinating now. The venom must be incredibly toxic, she thought.
Her mom arrived at the hospital thirty minutes after Mariah was checked into a room. The anti-venom and a low dose morphine drip were already administered. Zofran helped kick her nausea and a big bag of saline hung from her opposite arm. Her hand was swollen to about the size of a grapefruit and looked like a demon was possessing it. Her mom took one look at her and acted as if she was going to die. Mariah knew after talking to the doctor that she wasn’t, but good luck telling her mother that.
Her mother was beautiful, the kind of beautiful you see in old movies. Not too much makeup. Her hair was straight and fine, and a nice shade of light brown. Her dad always said her blue eyes looked like the ocean and if you look into them for too long you could just swim away into her thoughts. In other words, mom reads like an open book. All her emotions play out on her face like a bad silent film. So, when Mariah told her she was fine, her mother insisted she should sell her house and move back into their family home.
Mariah rolled her eyes. She loves the woman, but no way was she giving up her little chunk of history just because she was stupid enough to stick her hand behind a dark, dusty cabinet in a house that hasn’t been lived in for over 24 years. Mariah assured her mother that she was fine, and would no doubt be going home tomorrow healthy and ready to take on another day of exploration and renovation.
Thinking about exploring reminded her, Greg and his team would be at the house early to work again. She pulled out her cell and texted him that she was in the hospital but should be back by morning. If she was not there when he arrived, the side door was unlocked. They are mainly working outside and would have little need of her anyway, she thought.
Mariah was anxious to get back and see the basement. She had completely forgotten to check after Greg left today. She had intended to go down and see how the leveling was affecting the walls and the ceiling. That would have to be added to the list of things to do tomorrow. That, and hiring an exterminator. That recluse had friends; she was sure of it.
After the doctor convinced her mother that all was fine and Mariah would, in fact, be able to leave after the IV was gone and the anti-venom kicked in fully, Mariah was able to bribe her into going and getting coffee. She was exhausted and caffeine sounded amazing. As her mother was walking out, Olivia walked into the room. Mariah was shocked to see her again, but happy none-the-less.
“How’s the hand?” Olivia said, sauntering in.
“You just came to check on my hand? You came all the way back here just for that?” Mariah muttered in disbelief.
“Well, I was bringing in another patient and thought I could check on you to see if you still have a hand. I figure if you don’t, then I could lend you one sometime when you’re working on that massive house of yours.” Olivia laughed at her own corny joke. Medical professionals have a morbid sense of humor, Mariah thought, remembering a similar joke the doctor had made earlier.
“That would be nice. I’m always there and could definitely use an extra set of hands,” Mariah replied. She pulled out her cell to text Olivia her phone number. Olivia, however, didn’t own a cell phone. They, instead, set up a day and time to meet up so Mariah could show her the house. She made sure Olivia was aware that the house was ancient and that people around town seemed to be afraid of it. Olivia assured her that she was fine. She told Mariah that she had once lived in a house similar to Oakley.
Mariah took in the information and settled back into the pillow to rest. Olivia left shortly after, and then her mom came back with coffee and a huge smile on her face.
“I love you, my ladybug,” she told Mariah as she handed her the coffee. Her mom has always called her ladybug; the red curly hair might have something to do with that.
“I love you too momma,” Mariah whispered, sipping the coffee slowly, feeling the caffeine wash over her like a warm blanket in winter. Her arm was so cold from the IV, she hadn’t even realized she was shivering.
Mariah hated hospitals, cold and full of sick or dying people. If anywhere had the potential to be haunted, it would be a hospital. Yet no one talks about hospitals, and no one avoids them. What makes a silly old house so much different? People can be real wimps about things they don’t know, or care to learn about, Mariah surmised.
CHAPTER SIX
Hand on the mend, Mariah was discharged around three in the morning with antibiotics and some Zofran pills to dissolve under her tongue just in case she got sick again. Her mom drove them both back to the family house and like a small child, she tucked Mariah into her old bed where she fell right to sleep. There was still enough morphine in her system to tranquilize a small elephant.
Shaking her awake around ten that morning, her mom told her that her phone had been going crazy, so she had answered it and spoke to Greg. She assured Mariah that Greg said everything was under control and they would be there until five working on the foundation. That’s all well and good, she thought, but she needed to get back there to supervise and to call an exterminator to spray for spiders and check for mice. Luckily, her Nissan was still there.
Mariah asked if her mother would like to come back to the Oakley house to see it, even though it wasn’t ready enough for her mother to be venturing around. Her mother politely declined the invitation in favor of goat yoga.
Mariah would never understand goat yoga. But to each their own, she thought as she rolled over and laid her head back on the pillow.
Mariah took another long luxurious nap, having vastly underestimated the effects of the medicine and venom in her body. Not only that, but her hand was beginning to regain feeling and it felt like bugs were crawling all over her hand and up her arm. Tingling, that is normal from what the doctor had said, but that didn’t make it feel any better.
After a nice long shower, and a light lunch Mariah opted to drive herself home. Her house was about twenty minutes from her family home, and she figured she would be fine to drive that short distance alone. Her mom, however, insisted on following at least halfway to make sure Mariah could drive in a straight line. She broke away about two streets from the turn to Mariah’s house. Mariah just shrugged and kept on going.
The rocky drive down the road to her house was not very pleasing to the stomach, so Mariah popped a Zofran under her tongue and took a few deep breaths hoping she wouldn’t spew chunks all over the driveway in front of the workers. It was almost five, so they should be packing up to leave for the day. That would place them all right out front in full view of her hypothetical vomit fest.
She pulled into the driveway and parked, still feeling sick. Mariah reclined the seat and closed her eyes for a moment. It was so peaceful. There were no neighbors. The land was overgrown and full of animal life. While calming her stomach, she closed her eyes and listened to the birds. They chirped back and forth from one lush tree branch to another as though they hadn’t seen each other in years and had to catch up with the most beautiful songs. It was beyond relaxing. It was a lovely day, not too
hot, cloudy with a chance of a summer rainstorm. It would be a perfect day to open the windows in the house, she thought. As soon as the thought hit her, her mind was made up.
She leaned the seat back up, and unbuckled but before she opened her eyes, there was a loud crash from behind the house, accompanied by men screaming for help.
Her eyes flew open, and she jumped from the car. It took a moment to gain her footing because she was still light-headed from the medication. Once she figured out where exactly the sound had come from, Mariah took off running. She ran from the driveway where moments ago she had just been enjoying the sound of birds, around the house to the back where she was confronted with a horrendous sight.
Greg sat on the grass, hunched over and panting as though he, too, had just run a marathon. All the men were gathered around him, some on their phones calling for help, others just gawking. As Mariah moved closer, she saw Greg was cradling one of his men. She had never seen anything like it. His face was frozen, eyes wide open in fear. The top of his head was shattered open, blood pooling on the ground and dripping down Greg’s arms while he cradled his worker and rocked softly from side to side. He was crying, not loud sobs but she could see the tears running down his face.
Mariah didn’t know what to do. Not only did she not know what had just happened, but she didn’t know what it meant for her, since whatever happened, did so on her property. She had no idea who to talk to, so she approached the man that was always following Greg around. He must be the assistant or someone important, she thought. Mariah tapped him gently on the shoulder, he turned slowly to face her, tears running down his cheeks as well, eyes swollen and red from grief.
“I’m Mariah, the owner of the house,” she managed to squeak out. “Can you tell me what happened, Mr.? I’m sorry I don’t believe I know your name.” She wasn’t sure if this was the kind of introduction that needed a handshake, but she deemed it fine to forego that custom at the moment.
The Secrets of Oakley House Page 3