Blackthorn Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  Addison pulled a few sheets of tissue from the canister beside her bed and offered them to her. “I’m glad you told me.”

  Whitney blotted her tears away. “My life is different now. Colin is so good to me, and the Ravencrofts have been too. Well, I’m closer to Catherine than I am to Gene. He’s kind of ...”

  Her words trailed off like she’d decided not to finish the sentence, leaving Addison to wonder what she meant to say and how Whitney had managed to pierce Catherine’s ice-cold exterior enough to establish a relationship. “Have you worked for Catherine very long?”

  “A couple of years now. It’s been the best job I’ve ever had. Over the last year, she has had less guests, but when it’s just the four of us, I still cook, and it feels like we’re family.”

  There was another knock on the door, and Colin came in. He glanced at Addison and then at his teary-eyed wife. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I’m great. Just a little girl talk.”

  He smiled. “Sorry to barge in. I just wondered if you wanted to go to town with me. I’m going to look at a foreclosure that just came up, and wondered if you wanted to give your opinion on whether I should buy it or not.”

  “I can’t leave,” Whitney said. “Not yet. I need to gather the dishes from breakfast in a little while and do some clean up in the kitchen.”

  “I can wait. Can I help?”

  Whitney nodded and started for the door. “It was nice talking to you, Addison. Hope we get another chance to spend time together before you leave.”

  “I’ll make sure we do.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Addison tapped on Lia’s bedroom door. “Hello? Can I come in?”

  “It’s unlocked,” Lia said.

  Addison entered to find Lia dressed casually, back in the clothes Lia loved most.

  “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you during the reception last night,” Addison said.

  “No big deal. It was your wedding night. I figured we would catch up today. What’s up?”

  “A lot, actually.”

  Addison filled Lia in on recent events.

  “Wow,” she said when Addison finished. “So ... I guess you’ll be sticking around, then, huh?”

  “For now. I’m hoping it won’t be for long. I was hoping you could do something for me.”

  Lia smiled. “Sure, name it.”

  “It would require you to stick around here for one more day.”

  “Not a problem. You know me: queen workaholic. I have so many unused vacation days they’re practically begging me not to come back yet. What do you need?”

  “I’m trying to form a relationship with Catherine Ravencroft so she’ll allow me to stay here a bit longer. In the meantime, will you find out everything you can about the history of this place? According to Catherine, the manor was built by her grandfather before being passed down to her father, and then to her. I need to know if this is true, and any information you can find on the family.”

  “You bet. Family, meaning everyone?”

  “Everyone who has ever lived here, how they’re related to one another, who’s still alive, who’s dead, how they died, and if any deaths aside from Cora’s are suspicious in any way.”

  Lia pulled her laptop out of her bag and plopped it down on the bed. “All right. I’ll start this way, and I can head to town and do more digging if I don’t find anything.”

  “I really appreciate this, Lia.”

  Addison stepped into the hall, shocked to find Gene hovering outside Lia’s bedroom door.

  “Gene, what are you doing?”

  “You don’t need to go to the trouble of digging up the past,” he said. “It won’t be necessary.”

  “How do you know what we just—”

  He smacked the wall with a hand and grinned. “This is an old house. The walls are thin. You should know that by now.”

  “Are you saying you heard everything I just said?”

  “Just the tail end, the last several seconds or so.” He waved a hand to the side, instructing her to join him. “My wife has stepped out for a while, leaving me in charge.”

  “Leaving you instructions to keep an eye on me, you mean?”

  He giggled. “Something like that. We should talk. Follow me.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Gene patted the empty space next to him on the porch swing. Addison sat down. For an older man, Gene was handsome in a sly-fox sort of way. His dark-gray hair was thick and slicked back, and his eyes twinkled whenever he smiled.

  Brad stood on a ladder a few feet in front of them, humming while he trimmed hedges that didn’t appear to need any trimming. He glanced at Addison and Gene and nodded. “How’s everyone doing today?”

  “We’re fine, Brad,” Gene said. “How about yourself?”

  “Been a good day so far. And how are those flowers in your room, Mrs. Flynn?”

  “Lovely,” Addison said.

  “Uhh, Brad, can you give Addison and me some time to ourselves?” Gene asked.

  “Sure. It’s about time for a lunch break anyway.”

  He stepped down from the ladder, disappearing around the side of the house.

  “It seems your visit here has distressed my wife,” Gene began.

  “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  “But you have, and you ask a lot of questions, questions best left where they should be—in the past.”

  “Why all the secrecy over your family’s history? I don’t understand.”

  “Why all the questions about a family you’re not in? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  He interlaced his fingers on his lap. “I was instructed by Catherine to tell you and your party to pack your things and go. The wedding is over. You should get back to your life, and we need to get back to ours.”

  “I was hoping to stay another day or two.”

  “You live in Rhinebeck, don’t you?”

  Addison nodded.

  “It’s a small population, you know,” he said. “Less than eight thousand people. My younger brother lives there. Floyd Ravencroft. Maybe you know him?”

  Addison crossed one leg over the other. “I don’t.”

  “Would it surprise you to learn that he knows you?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Luke works on houses all over the area, and his family has lived there for three generations. They seem to know everyone. I’ve only been there for a few years now.”

  “I called my brother this morning, and do you know what he told me?”

  Addison shrugged.

  “There are whispers in the community,” he said.

  “Whispers about what?”

  “A fair, red-haired woman who inherited Grayson Manor a few years back. Some in the community say she claims to be psychic and communicates with the dead.”

  It was a shocking revelation, one that rattled her. She had always prided herself on keeping a low profile, on not discussing her abilities with anyone she didn’t trust. To learn it was common knowledge, whispered about by the locals, made the thought of living there much less appealing.

  Addison pulled a hairband off her wrist, twisting her hair into a bun. “It’s all right for you to be straightforward. I assume you’re referring to me, and I’ve never claimed any such thing.”

  “Haven’t you? You say you saw Cora outside of this house. You described her to Catherine—what she looked like—what she was wearing the day she died. And before you ask me how I know, I overheard you talking with Catherine in your room yesterday. Cora died in a black dress. She was buried in a white one. Few people know that, and most who do are dead. So tell me, how is it you know things you couldn’t know any other way?”

  Addison was beginning to see Gene differently. The most cunning of lions held back, lurking in the grass until the perfect time to strike. Was it possible Gene had her fooled? “You seem to be in the habit of listening to conversations that weren’t meant for you.”


  “It’s like I said before: the walls in this house are thin. Little gets by me, and I’m not ashamed to admit I hear things now and then.”

  It almost sounded like a threat.

  “Do you believe in spirits, Mr. Ravencroft?”

  He leaned back, closed his eyes. “I believe sometimes things happen which can’t be explained. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “And what about those with psychic abilities?”

  He glanced at her with a wry grin. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never met one until now.”

  “Have you ever had an experience you couldn’t explain?”

  “Once, several years ago.”

  “Would you tell me about it?”

  “I was driving into town, listening to Elvis on the radio. “Love me Tender” was the song. It had been my father’s favorite when he was alive. He used to play it every time we were in the car. His funeral had been a few weeks before, and I put it on, I don’t know, to honor him, I guess.”

  “And to remember.”

  He nodded. “That too. I had a cup of coffee in my hand. I went to take a sip and it smacked against the steering wheel. Next thing I know it’s flying out of my hands. Spilled all over me. I was so shocked I almost forgot I was still driving. And that was when ... well, it was when the car filled with the smell of the brand of cigarettes my father used to smoke. Then, I heard his voice. And I don’t care what anyone says, it was him all right.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said to keep my eyes on the road. I looked up and saw a little girl no more than five years old running into the street. She was chasing after her dog. He had broken free from his leash. I slammed on the brakes just in time, missing her by a couple of inches.”

  “Your father saved her life, and yours.”

  “He sure did. I would have ended up injured, dead, or in prison. Either way, if she would have died, it would have ruined the rest of my life.” He paused a moment. “So is what my brother says true? Do you see those who have passed on from this life, or don’t you?”

  Addison wanted to believe Gene’s story, but the softness in his eyes had changed. They were shifty, always darting around, first at the road, then the ocean, then the front door, and then back at the road again. Was his story a fabrication, or was he worried Catherine would return at any moment and see the two of them sitting together on the swing? And given Gene had been tasked with tossing them out: answering his question truthfully was too risky. She needed to stay, at least until Catherine returned, and she needed to believe Gene hadn’t heard all of her conversation with Lia.

  “I did see a woman outside of my bedroom window, and she was wearing a black dress. Who she is or was, I can’t be sure. Just prior to seeing her, I had been looking at the portraits in the parlor. I suppose it’s possible I saw the photo of Cora and then the woman outside and thought they looked the same. Or maybe my eyes deceived me.”

  He nodded and cocked an eyebrow. “Did they now?”

  “As to what your brother thinks about me, when I inherited Grayson Manor, bones were discovered inside and outside of my house. One set turned out to be a woman who had mysteriously vanished after attending a party there in the early 50s. The other belonged to my grandfather, a man I’m glad I never knew. When something like this happens in a small town, people make up what they will to satisfy themselves. I have no control over what rumors are spread about me or my family.”

  Gene considered her words. “You’re being conservative and modest. I don’t blame you, I suppose, but I will warn you. The topic of Cora’s death is especially disturbing to Catherine, and I’d like to ask you not to discuss it with her again.”

  “Why not?”

  “You have your reasons for the things you do, and I have mine. I’m not going to force you to leave, but once Catherine returns, she will.” He gripped the metal bar on the side of the swing, using it as an aid to help him stand up. “And as for your conversation with your friend, you should be careful what you drudge up. The few members of Catherine’s family who are still alive won’t take kindly if they find out you’re poking around. They’ll want to know why, and unlike me, they’re not as nice.”

  He tipped his head in Addison’s direction, leaving her to contemplate the severity of his words. But she was too busy staring at the way Gene’s hands swung as he walked, and thinking how perfectly strong they were for such an old man—just strong enough to shove someone out a second-story window.

  CHAPTER 13

  Marjorie sat on a chair at a small, two-person table in her bedroom, her eyes focused on the wrapping paper she’d brought with her to wrap Addison’s wedding gift in. The paper was decorated with metallic owls in various sizes and shapes, and though the birds had a symbolic meaning, using the paper didn’t seem necessary anymore, and Marjorie decided the gift would be best presented as-is.

  She grabbed the roll of paper, plopped it into the trash bin, and reached out, grabbing a small leather book off the nightstand. The book was a few inches smaller than a magazine, over three hundred pages, and infinitely more special, because the book wasn’t really a book at all—it was a means of attaining a higher power—a power stronger than the mediums in her family possessed on their own.

  Marjorie smoothed a hand over the embossed images on the book’s cover. Three women clutching one another’s hands stood around what appeared to be a cauldron. When viewed more closely, however, what looked to be a cauldron was actually a magnificent pillar of light. And the women surrounding the light—a grandmother, a daughter, and a granddaughter—symbolized the sacred gift they had been born with, a gift passed down from woman to child, generation after generation.

  The book had been in Marjorie’s possession much longer than intended. She had hoped to pass it down to her own daughter, but when her daughter rejected the gift she was born with, Marjorie was forced to wait for the day Addison stepped up, accepting her duty within the family. When to give the book to Addison had been another matter. Marjorie had considered it after Addison’s encounter with Roxanne Rafferty, the woman whose skeleton had been found trapped within the walls of Grayson Manor. But at the time, Addison was just starting to explore her gift, and Marjorie thought it best to wait.

  So she did.

  The pages of the book contained what appeared to be lines of lyrical poetry, but when spoken by a medium, the words evolved into something much more. Flipping through its sacred pages now, Marjorie was still hesitant about letting the book go. Not because Addison hadn’t earned it, and not because it wasn’t time, but because she still remembered the day it had been passed to her by her own mother. And though she didn’t want to part with it, she knew she had no choice now. She had to. Addison was ready. And even if she wasn’t, Marjorie’s days were limited. She could feel the life ebbing from her like sand in a sieve. Soon she’d be nothing more than ash, and she would leave this world behind.

  CHAPTER 14

  Addison walked downstairs, pausing halfway when she heard a man and woman engaged in a heated conversation. The woman’s voice was Catherine’s, but the man’s was one she’d never heard before. Craning her head, she had a two-inch view inside Catherine’s bedroom, which offered her a glimpse of the man’s side profile. He was older and tall, Catherine’s age perhaps, and wearing a gray ascot cap over his bald head.

  “I don’t care what you think,” Catherine said. “It’s not up to you.”

  “It should be,” the man replied.

  “Well, it isn’t.”

  “I won’t let you do it.”

  “You won’t let me? I don’t know what power you think you have, but you don’t have any. If you’ve said what you wanted to say, I want you out of my house. Leave. Now.”

  “Out of our house, you mean.”

  “This place was never yours.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until we’ve worked this out.”

  Catherine snorted a laugh. “There’s nothing to work out. And if you think you can show up
here and bully—”

  Catherine stopped midsentence.

  “What is it?” the man asked. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  “Shh!”

  “Why?”

  “Someone outside, on the stairway, listening.”

  Addison rushed downstairs, rounded the corner, and stood, her heart racing, her hand clasped over her mouth.

  Catherine stepped into the hall. “Who’s there?”

  The man stepped out behind her. “No one is out here. You’re either being paranoid or playing games. We’re not finished talking.”

  “We’re finished talking when I say we are.”

  Addison heard Catherine’s bedroom door slam shut. The man cleared his throat. It sounded like he was in the hallway, and Catherine had shut him out.

  The conversation, it seemed, was over.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I found something,” Lia said. “It isn’t much, but it’s a start. The newspaper has a searchable archive. Here’s what I found for Joseph.”

  Lia turned her laptop toward Addison. The article was dated June 17, 1964.

  Local Sailor Still Missing

  Tragedy struck close to home when Joseph Blackthorn, a twenty-two-year old experienced sailor went missing five days ago while aboard his boat, Cora’s Heart. The vessel disappeared several miles from shore after heading into one of this season’s most brutal storms. Debris from Blackthorn’s demolished boat has been found scattered across the ocean’s surface, but as of this time, Joseph has not been located.

  Search crews have scoured the wreckage site over the last several days, but so far there has been no sign of the missing sailor. Despite numerous pleas made by Joseph’s wife, Cora, to continue looking for her husband, local police believe it’s likely Blackthorn drowned after his boat capsized during the storm, and any future attempts to locate him have been called off.