The Haunting of Abram Mansion

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Really, you don’t have to do that,” I told Della as she scrubbed the kitchen counters. She’d already made dinner for everyone under the roof, including Jim and his crew. The lentil soup warmed my insides and made my eyelids droop. Della, however, cleaned with unadulterated vigor. Her hands shook as she rinsed the sponge under the tap. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, dropping the sponge in the sink for the second time. “Old age gets to you every once in a while.”

  This wasn’t particularly true in Della’s case. I’d never seen a woman her age so strong and stout. No, her shakiness was definitely the result of something other than her age. “It’s the mansion, isn’t it? You’ve been here a lot in the past couple of weeks.”

  “Please. This old house doesn’t scare me.”

  “It doesn’t scare me either,” I said, though it was half a lie. Most days, I didn’t fear the mansion or its ghostly inhabitant, but every time Alyssa threw a temper tantrum, I questioned whether or not it was safe for me and Ben to make it to the six-month mark. “But I hear whispers in the walls, like the ones you mentioned about the Garden of Marble.”

  Della’s furious cleaning came to a halt, though she remained facing the sink. “You hear them too?”

  “Since the first night we arrived here,” I said. “I told Ben about them, but he never heard it. You’re the only person I’ve met who seems to understand.”

  She resumed scrubbing, slowly and on the same spot over and over again. “Are you… like me?”

  I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Through general observation, I’d gathered that Della worked hard to maintain her mental health. At the very least, she treated herself for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and depression. If I had to guess, there was some anxiety mixed in there as well. She covered it well, hiding her symptoms behind oddities that could easily be explained away. Was I like her? Did I have some undiagnosed illness that allowed me to see and hear Alyssa? If that was the case, did it mean Sammy was likewise inflicted?

  “I think we both know this house takes certain people in and spits others out,” I told her. “If spending time here affects you in a negative fashion, don’t be afraid to avoid our home. I won’t be offended.”

  Della squeezed the extra water out of the sponge and set it on the edge of the spotless sink. “You’re right. It does affect me to be here. Something about this house pulls me in, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”

  “You’ve made me aware of your connection to this house in the past,” I reminded her. “I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

  “I am,” she promised. “In fact, it’s good for me to spend a little time here with others. Before you and Ben moved in, long ago, I explored everything on my own. I had no buffer between me and the house.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I’m here for you, Ben, and Basil,” Della promised. “Not to feed my interest in this house or the Abrams. To me, that makes all the difference.”

  Della became a frequent fixture at the house, appearing with Ben and Basil every afternoon. I grew used to her presence and stopped fussing over her constant cleaning. It was a soothing task for her, and it left me with time to tend to Sammy and the Falconwood website. Each day as I left the house, I bid goodbye to Ben, Basil, and Della as if they were all family.

  Falconwood had had a particularly warm couple of days, so when I picked up Sammy from school, many of the parents who usually drove had walked instead. The pickup loop was far less busy, and I cruised right up to the curb. Sammy was nowhere to be found until I saw a gaggle of kids behind the bushes in the middle of the courtyard. In the middle, I caught sight of Sammy’s panicked face. I put the car in park and got out, much to the chagrin of the parents in line behind me.

  “Miss?” One of the teachers manning the pickup loop hurried after me as I slammed the door of my car and navigated the sea of waiting students to reach the courtyard. “Excuse me, miss? You’re not allowed to leave your car in the pickup loop. The whole point—”

  “That’s my kid,” I snarled.

  In the courtyard, the circle of bigger kids pushed Sammy around. He couldn’t find a way out, though he pleaded with them to let him go. I stepped over the low hedge and emerged right behind a chubby blond boy who had Sammy in hand. Sternly but safely, I pried him off of Sammy. Sammy escaped the circle and hid behind me. I knelt down, gripping the blond kid’s jacket firmly with one hand to ensure I had the attention of the whole group.

  “Listen here,” I whispered, deadly quiet. “You may fool your teachers and parents into blaming these fights on Sammy, but I know the truth. If any one of you ever touches or talks to Sammy again, I will make sure your parents hear about it. Do you understand me?”

  One by one, the kids nodded. The blond boy looked especially terrified. “You’re that girl, aren’t you?” he said, voice trembling. “The one who lives in the Abram Mansion?”

  “What of it?”

  “That place is haunted.”

  “It sure is,” I promised. “And I’m friends with the ghost. You wouldn’t want to find a ghost in your room at night, when you’re safe in bed, would you?”

  The blond boy furiously shook his head.

  I released his jacket and patted the wrinkles out of it. “Then I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I stood up and took Sammy by the hand. “I’ll be keeping an eye on all of you. Don’t forget that.”

  As soon as I swung Sammy over the hedge, the rest of the kids huddled together and started whispering. Surely, they were conspiring how best to tattle to their parents about my threat of sending the ghost of Abram Mansion to haunt them. I didn’t care. If the other Falconwood parents ended up at my throat, I would remind them that their children were liars and bullies. At least the blame would come down on me instead of Theo. She had too much on her plate already. Ever since she’d started working more hours at the dentist’s office, I’d only seen her when I dropped off Sammy. Once or twice, she had invited me to stay for dinner, but she was clearly exhausted after such long days. I made sure they had everything they needed, even running to the grocery store a few times for them, before I took my leave and headed back to the mansion.

  Today, like most every other day, I treated Sammy to his promised pack of stickers and an afternoon snack at the Black Cat. He picked out some glittery dinosaurs and happily stuck them all up and down his forearm as he ate his ham and cheese sandwich in our regular booth. Like always, Mason made him a hot chocolate. We were here so often that I began asking Mason to use a natural sugar substitute in Sammy’s drinks to make sure he wasn’t getting too much for his age. Sammy never noticed the change in taste, and he munched happily on his side of celery and peanut butter. Since Theo was so busy, I never knew what kind of diet Sammy was getting throughout the day, but I figured I might as well feed him like I would feed my own kid.

  “Sammy, have you ever met Della Gordon?” I asked him as he rearranged the stickers on his arm in a pattern he liked.

  “Sure,” he replied. “She babysat me a couple of times. She’s weird, but I like her. Did you know you can go ice skating on her pond when it freezes?”

  “I did know that.” I’d seen Della’s figure skates tucked away in a corner of the airstream. “Why do you think she’s weird?”

  “She’s not like other grown-ups,” Sammy informed me. “She doesn’t talk to me like I’m a kid. You know how most grown-ups do? Their voices get all high-pitched, and they talk to me like I’m a baby.”

  “Do I do that?”

  “No. That’s why I like you.” He moved a stegosaurus from the back of his hand to his tiny bicep. “Actually, you and Della and my mom are all a lot alike. I think so, at least.”

  I stirred my cappuccino. The foam was gone, but the cup was three-fourths full. After rescuing Sammy from the bullies in the schoolyard, I hadn’t been in much of a moo
d to drink it. “I think Della might be like us. At least, I think she can hear Alyssa when she comes to visit the house.”

  “Oh!” Sammy’s eyes lit up as he finally tore his gaze from the dinosaurs all over his skin. “That’s who Alyssa talks about all the time!”

  “Alyssa’s talked about Della?”

  “Yeah, she used to tell me about a woman who would come visit the mansion,” Sammy said. “Alyssa really liked her because she wasn’t as lonely. She tried to talk to Della, but Della didn’t understand what was happening.”

  “She thought she was going crazy,” I muttered, more to myself than to Sammy.

  “I guess so,” Sammy said. “Because she stopped coming. Alyssa was really sad about it.”

  “Well, Della’s at the mansion almost every day now,” I told him. “If Alyssa wanted to say hi, she could. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea though.”

  “Because Della doesn’t get it?”

  “No, she thinks it’s all in her head.”

  Sammy peeled all the stickers off, stacked them into a single sticky mess, and wrapped them in a napkin. I admired that about him. Once he was done with the stickers, he made no attempt to save them, and he had no problem throwing them away when I asked him to. If we all learned to ditch certain attachments once they were of no more use to us, we’d probably be better off.

  “Are you going to tell her about Alyssa?” Sammy asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I said. “I don’t want to scare her.”

  “That’s good,” Sammy replied. “Don’t scare her.”

  Upon returning Sammy to his apartment, I noticed Theo’s car was already in the parking lot. She was home early. A familiar beat-up sedan was parked next to Theo’s car. I pulled in next to it and peeked into the windows. The front passenger seat was full of fast food wrappers, half-empty soda bottles, dirty napkins, and a few items of questionable nature including a small baggie full of white pills. I hurried Sammy away from the vehicle and up the steps to his apartment, only to push him behind me when angry voices emanated from the open door.

  “Theo?” I stepped inside, keeping Sammy fully hidden.

  Theo stood across from an unfamiliar man. I’d never seen him in town before, and from the looks of Theo’s angered expression, he certainly was not meant to be in this apartment. The man was around my age. His hair was shaved close to his scalp. He had thin cheekbones and a biting grin that never seemed to go away. He wore a baggy gray sweatshirt and kept his hands in his pockets.

  “Who’s this?” the man said, his grin spreading as his eyes raked me from my head to my toes. “The babysitter? Damn, Theo. Nice job.”

  Theo rushed me out of the apartment and shut the door behind her, closing the three of us off from the suspicious man. “Peyton, I need you to take Sammy to your house for a while.”

  “Why? Who is that guy?”

  “Please,” Theo begged, rubbing Sammy’s shoulders as he hugged her around the knees. “I don’t want Sammy around him. Please just get Sammy out of here. Once I get rid of him, I’ll come pick Sammy up.”

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him,” I whispered. “What if something happens?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with him.” She glanced nervously behind her as something shattered in the apartment. “Please. I’m begging you.”

  “Okay,” I said at last. “But if I don’t hear from you in thirty minutes, I’m calling the police.”

  Theo kissed Sammy on the forehead and pushed him into the safety of my arms. “That’s fair. I’ll see you later.”

  With that, she vanished once more into the apartment. Through the narrow gap in the door, I caught sight of the man’s enigmatic grin again. Whoever he was, I hated him already. “Come on, Sammy,” I said, piloting him away from the apartment. “Looks like you finally get to hang out at the mansion for a little bit.”

  In the parking lot, I buckled Sammy in but couldn’t bring myself to drive away, not while Theo was alone in her apartment with that man. I dialed a number on my phone.

  “Hello?” A familiar voice answered.

  “Officer Spaughton?” I asked. “It’s Peyton Fletcher.”

  “Hi, Peyton. How many times have I asked you to call me Hillary?” Paperwork rustled on her end of the line, like she was finishing up some stuff at the police precinct before packing up for the day. “What’s the matter? Did someone break into your house again?”

  Hillary Spaughton was the one and only officer in Falconwood that I was personally acquainted with. Before I knew about Alyssa, I was convinced squatters were breaking into the mansion to spend the night there. Hillary came out more than once to search the place and ensure Ben and I were safe.

  “No, everything at the house has been great,” I told her. “I’m actually calling about Theo Baker. There’s a guy at her apartment who seems potentially violent. Theo asked me to let her sort it out on her own—I’ve got Sammy—but I’m worried about her. Is there any way you could—?”

  “I’ll swing by,” Hillary said before I’d finished my sentence. “I’m about to leave the office anyway.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Not a problem. The Bakers are good people.”

  After hanging up, I finally pulled out of the parking lot. Sammy was unusually quiet, and when I checked on him in the mirror, his face was a pale, gluey color. “You okay back there?”

  He craned his neck to watch the apartment disappear in the back windshield. “That was my dad, wasn’t it?”

  It was my guess too. Theo had never said a word to me about Sammy’s father, so I always assumed he was completely out of the picture. When I thought about the kind of guy Theo might be attracted to, the man in the apartment was not what I pictured.

  “I don’t know, buddy,” I said truthfully.

  “Do you think he’s going to hurt her?”

  Falconwood receded in the background as I drove into the woods. “I hope not.”

  Basil and Della’s environmentally-friendly car was still parked outside the mansion when we arrived, but the house was quiet as I took Sammy in. I walked him inside with both hands on his shoulders. When we stepped over the threshold, I half-expected Alyssa to materialize right in front of us to greet her friend, but we were only met with the warmth of the dark foyer. Ben and Basil’s voices traveled to our ears from Ben’s study, but Della was nowhere to be found.

  “Come on, Sammy,” I said. “I’ll get you something to eat downstairs.”

  Della wasn’t in the kitchen either. I wondered if she was off cleaning some other area of the house. Uneasiness stole through me, though I tried to stave it off. My nervousness for Theo had followed me to the mansion and applied itself to the situation here. Della’s unusual absence had me on edge.

  “Della usually makes dinner,” I told Sammy apologetically. For once, the kitchen smelled of nothing at all. None of Della’s home-grown spices or herbs filled the air. “I can make you a peanut butter sandwich?”

  Sammy stared at the new door that led to the back of the mansion, where the courtyard opened up to overgrown topiaries and a massive swimming pool that stood empty save for dead leaves. The old door had featured a doggy entrance. Not so long ago, Sammy repeatedly snuck into the house through the small gap in security.

  “Sure,” he said, distant.

  As I gathered the ingredients from the pantry, my phone rang, displaying Officer Spaughton’s number. “Hey, Hillary. Is everything okay?”

  “Seems like it,” Hillary replied to my great relief. “I went by the apartment and knocked on the door. The guy bolted as soon as he saw me. My guess is he’s got a record if he’s that uncomfortable around cops.”

  “Theo’s okay though?”

  “She’s shaken up,” said Hillary. “She wouldn’t tell me who the guy was. She did, however, assume you’d called me to check in on her, so I’m sorry for ratting you out. She said to tell you she’s on her way to pick up Sammy, and she’ll be t
here shortly. I’m waiting outside in my car until she leaves, just to make sure this guy doesn’t show up again. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Nope. Thanks again, Hillary. I appreciate it.”

  “I appreciate women who look out for their friends,” she said. “Thanks for the call, Peyton. Don’t hesitate to use my number in the future.”

  I hung up, frosted peanut butter across Sammy’s sandwich, and placed it in front of him with a bag of cheddar crackers and a glass of apple juice. “Your mom’s okay. She’s on her way.”

  He gazed through the window of the back door, seemingly entranced by the empty courtyard. “Uh-huh.”

  “Yo, Sammy.” I waved a hand in front of his face. “You zoning out on me?”

  Out of nowhere, he burst into tears, bawling his eyes out when he’d been perfectly fine two seconds ago. I shoved his plate aside and took his hands in mine, searching for a physical reason for his freak-out. “Sammy. Hey! Buddy, what’s wrong?”

  He continued crying, sobbing and heaving for breath. His chest rose and fell in sporadic bursts, but he wouldn’t tell me anything, no matter how much I pled with him. His sandwich sat uneaten. The white bread looked pathetic against the white plate, as colorless as Sammy’s face had been in the car on the drive home.

  “Sammy, please,” I begged. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help—”

  A shrill scream cut into our conversation. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and Sammy’s sobs increased in volume. The scream went on for several seconds, paused, then resumed in a similar fashion. It was coming from outside, in the courtyard. I left Sammy crying at the table, unable to help him at the moment, and barreled through the back door. It was the first time I’d walked into the courtyard since we moved into the mansion. The garden was so overgrown that I hadn’t dared to take it on. Night had fallen, and the misshapen topiaries cast eerie shadows across the tangles of branches, weeds, and vines.

  “Hello?” I called, swatting branches out of my way as I followed the hoarse scream through the immense garden. “Hello! I’m here to help! Where are you?”