by Tom Lapham
Finally, they seemed to have made their decision. Yes, they wanted the house. The realtor shook her head happily, and the girls babbled excitedly as they moved back downstairs. It seemed to be all settled as they went out the door. Bert had followed closely behind them all the way down and now he stood in the front hall, so happy he thought his heart would burst. If he had been alive, he would have cried. After several moments, he glided back upstairs to his room, barely touching the steps as he went. He was ecstatic. He turned on his Victrola, put on a record of Viennese waltzes, and danced unrestrainedly around the room.
He didn't know when the girls would move in, but he wanted to be ready. Everything had to be perfect. The next morning he sat down at his desk and wrote a note to each young woman welcoming her to the house, adding a personal touch to each note. To Victoria, he said that he hoped she would enjoy her room as much as the original owner had. To Anne, he mentioned the study. To Brenda, the beach, and to Lynne, the lighthouse across the bay. Then, he placed each note on a convenient table in each of the rooms the girls had chosen. He also found four vases; he planned to put fresh-cut flowers in them right before they arrived. Next, he set the dining room table for four. He wanted to prepare a wonderful dinner for them, but he knew that would be difficult and inappropriate. For now, this would be satisfactory.
Two days later, on Friday morning, the realtor returned and removed the multilock. Bert knew then that the girls would soon move in. It wouldn't take much effort, he didn't think. Over the years a lot of his furniture and other things had been removed, but the big items, like the dining room table, beds, and most of the dishes were still there. So, he was almost certain that they would each bring few of their own belongings. Saturday would be the day, he told himself. Saturday was it.
The next morning he was about early. He wanted to keep a sharp eye out for them, because he wanted to wait until the last minute to cut the flowers. Bert waited in the living room staring out the front window. Sure enough, at nine o'clock, a blue Honda pulled up. Victoria got out of the car. Bert raced out to the garden in back, going right through the walls and not even bothering to open any doors. Quickly, he cut an armful of roses, ivy, and fern—enough for four small arrangements and a larger one for the dining room. Then he charged back into the house.
Victoria had already come in, dropped a bag in the hall, and gone back out for another load. Bert quickly put flowers in the big vase on the dining room table. Then he swiftly glided upstairs and made arrangements in each of the girls rooms. He smiled and hummed softly to himself as he worked. He was very happy.
When he returned to the living room, Anne and Lynne were there. Victoria called from the dining room, “Would you two come look at this. Isn't this thoughtful?” The two walked into the dining room and saw the table arrangement.
“Did Brenda do this?”
“It had to be Brenda or Gloria.”
“Well, it certainly is nice.”
Bert beamed as he stood silently in the corner.
The three women went back to their unpacking and Brenda arrived a short time later. A few minutes afterward, they discovered their flowers and note cards. They were all pleased but curious.
“I think it's a wonderful thought, but I didn't do it,” Brenda confided.
“Then it must have been Gloria. We'll have to call her and thank her.”
They didn't have to. Just before lunch Gloria came to the door to see how the move was coming. Bert stood on the stairs as Anne answered the bell.
“Gloria,” she cried, “come on in.”
“Just came by to see how you were doing.”
“ We're slowly getting settled,” Anne answered as they walked down the hall toward the kitchen. “And it was so thoughtful of you to set the table and leave the notes and flowers. Thank you so much.”
Gloria stopped and look quizzically at Anne. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Why, didn't you leave flowers and notes in each of our rooms and set the dining room table?”
“No, dear, I didn't.”
“Well, I wonder who did.”
By this time the three other girls had come down and all looked at each other curiously. Bert stood in the doorway of the kitchen and could hardly contain himself. He had to stifle a large guffaw.
“It wasn't any of us,” the other three added.
Anne was puzzled. “Who would have known I liked that study so much?”
Victoria looked at her wryly. “Maybe it was the owner.”
“Don't be silly. He's…” She stopped in midsentence. “…dead.”
The first few days passed uneventfully. The girls were busy establishing their routines and working. Bert flitted around, happy to have people in the house, to hear the sounds of someone talking. He was content just to be near them. He did have one small problem; he normally slept on the bed which Victoria now occupied. For the moment that was impossible without alerting her to his presence, so he managed on the window seat. It wasn't very comfortable, however.
One evening a week after the girls moved in, Lynne and Victoria were sitting on the sofa in the living room chatting and watching television. Bert sat nearby in the high-backed Queen Anne's chair, listening. The two women seemed to be enjoying each other's company so much and seemed so happy, Bert suddenly felt lonely. He wanted to be part of this small family. He decided to chance it.
Slowly, he eased himself into their consciousness. They couldn't yet see him, but they could feel his presence. Abruptly, they stopped talking and looked at each other.
Victoria looked at Lynne out of the corner of her eye and hesitantly asked, “Do you feel something?”
Lynne looked at Victoria with a sheepish grin. “Yes, yes. Like someone is watching us. Like there is someone in this room.”
“Yes, someone else is here.” Victoria looked around. “I don't feel threatened, but there is someone here. I wonder if this place is haunted.”
Lynne shuddered. “I hope not. Even if it's friendly, I hope not.”
Bert sensed that he was starting to alarm the girls, and he withdrew. Pity, he thought, this may be more difficult than I planned.
The following Saturday morning, Lynne and Brenda came down to the kitchen quite early. Bert sensed them moving about and followed them. Brenda chattered away while Lynne made coffee and heated two bagels in the microwave. Now, there was a contraption that would have been useful to me, Bert said to himself. When the coffee was finished, the girls poured themselves steaming cups and went out to sit on the back porch and watch the sun come up over their beautiful beach. Bert decided to try again.
Lynne took a sip of coffee and put her cup down. “Do you smell carnations, Brenda?”
Brenda sniffed. “Yes, I do. That's really strange.” She stood and looked out in the garden to see if carnations were planted anywhere. “That is really strange.”
“You know, the other night Vickie and I were watching TV, and we both had the sensation that someone was in the room with us.”
Bert sat on a table just behind them and listened. He earnestly hoped they would give some indication of wanting to make contact.
“I wonder if this place is haunted.”
“I asked the same thing. Scary, isn't it?”
“Scary,” Brenda asserted. “Scary isn't the word for it. If this place is haunted, even if it's the ghost of Mother Theresa, I'm gone.”
“Oh, Brenda, don't be an idiot. Mother Theresa isn't even dead yet.”
“I don't care who it is. I just couldn't handle a ghost.”
Bert sighed. He had struck out again. This was so sad, he thought. Why were people so close-minded? He wasn't some fiendish demon who wanted to snatch their souls. He was just a lonely spirit searching for companionship. People, living ones, were sometimes so thoughtless.
Well, he would just have to try again.
Bert felt uncomfortable. He enjoyed having these four young women in the house. He enjoyed hearing their laughter and their talk.
He loved the old, familiar smells that came from an active kitchen. He relished the hustle and bustle and confusion of mealtimes with all four girls there. Sometimes, they invited friends, and Bert was reminded of the lively dinner parties he once had hosted. It was very nostalgic, and he was very happy that they were all there, but he wanted more. He wanted real contact.
He drifted from one room to another, longing for their companionship and wondering what to do. He was walking a fine line. He didn't want to frighten them away, but he had to have more. He decided that he had to risk trying again.
He hadn't approached Anne yet, and she seemed to be quite stable. He would try her. It was Friday night. Anne was going out and was sitting at her dressing table putting on makeup. He walked up behind her and started to materialize, being very careful to smile and appear non-threatening. She looked up in her mirror and saw him. Her face froze in a horrified look, and she spun around. He melted from sight. He could hear her gasp, her breath almost a panting. Soon, she calmed herself and turned back around.
After a few minutes, Bert again slowly materialized. This time, when Anne saw him, she screamed and ran out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” he said aloud as he followed her out of the room.
Anne ran, gasping, down the stairs to the living room where the other girls were watching TV. They had heard her scream and were all standing with worried looks.
“I…I…saw a ghost. I actually saw a ghost,” she stammered, trying to catch her breath. “There was a ghost in my room. I saw it in my mirror.”
Victoria took her by the arm. “Here, Anne, sit down a minute and try to calm yourself. Now try to relax. Brenda, get her a cup of coffee, will you? No, make it a glass of wine.”
“I don't want any wine,” Anne shouted angrily. “I saw a ghost, I tell you.”
“What did he look like, Anne?”
Anne sat silent for a moment, not moving, not saying anything. Then she took two deep breaths. “I was sitting at my dressing table, putting on lipstick. When I looked up, I saw him. Standing right behind me. I saw him in the mirror. I spun around quickly, and he was gone. But when I turned back to the mirror, there he was again. That's when I screamed and ran down here.”
“Yes, but what did he look like? Can you describe him?”
Well, he…he was quite handsome, really. And he was smiling. I was just so surprised. He was clean shaven and had on a suit and tie. In fact, the collar was one of those stiff things my grandfather used to wear. Oh, he was wearing a hat. And…and he had a carnation in his lapel.”
Lynne and Brenda looked wide-eyed at each other. “We were sitting on the back porch a couple of Saturdays back and smelled carnations. It was really spooky.”
Victoria jumped in. “Now, let's not all get hysterical over this. There must be some logical explanation. Let's be sensible.”
Bert stood in the doorway and nodded agreement. Yes, let's be sensible, he thought. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I don't even want to frighten anyone. He walked over to his Queen Anne's chair and sat down.
Anne returned later in the evening and, in fact, slept in her own room, even though Bert could see that she was a bit jumpy. Actually, everyone was a bit jumpy for several days. Gradually, however, the girls settled down, and everything seemed to be back to normal. Perhaps, he should try again, he thought.
One Saturday afternoon Victoria was lying down resting. Bert walked over to the bed and gently shook her. She hardly stirred, so he shook her again. This time she sat upright and looked angrily around the room. Oh, dear, Bert thought, now I've upset her. Victoria raced downstairs and out onto the back porch, demanding to know who had interrupted her sleep.
“Vickie, we've all been sitting right here for the last half hour or so,” Lynne answered.
Brenda was alarmed. “What happened, Vickie?”
Victoria wilted into a chair. “Someone shook me awake. I was sound asleep, and someone woke me up.”
“This is getting too spooky for me,” Brenda said, and she jumped out of her chair and headed for the door.
“Now, wait a minute, Brenda, don't wig out on us. Maybe, I imagined all this. Maybe I just dreamed it. I mean, I didn't see anything.”
“Geez. This is too weird.”
“I know, but let's let it be for now, okay?”
Bert stood there, dejected. He had only wanted to make contact, to have someone to be with. But he had succeeded only in upsetting the girls. Oh, dear, dear, he thought. I've made a mess of things. And he wondered off back up to the third floor.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Bert sat at the window seat and looked out at the lights of St. Augustine. He couldn't sleep. He felt lonelier now than he had before the girls had come. He botched this whole thing up, terribly, terribly. Now, what could he do? He sat there most of the night, worrying, feeling sorry for himself. By early morning he was exhausted. Without thinking, he walked over to the bed and lay down. Victoria, who was on the other side of the bed, must have felt the pressure. She seemed to wake up. Could she hear him breathing? She reached out to feel his side of the bed, and Bert rolled off onto the floor. She must have felt that, too, because she jumped out of bed and flicked on the lights. She grabbed a bathrobe and put it on. Then she headed toward the door.
Bert was panic-stricken. He stood up and materialized. “Please don't go,” he begged. “Please stay.”
Victoria looked in horror at him, put her hand to her mouth, screamed, and ran out the door. Moments later he heard all four girls talking excitedly. Then, he heard the front door close and their four cars drive away. The next day they returned with seven or eight others, and by noon they were gone, moved out. Bert was alone again.
Every once in a while, at dusk, Bert will see a blue Honda pass by, and he'll flip lights on, hoping that it's Victoria, but he doesn't know. Bert has been alone since then, and the house looks as sad as the ghost who lives on the third floor.
THE AUGUSTIN INN
THE AUGUSTIN INN ON CUNA Street, just down from the White Lion Cafe and Pub, is one of the newest bed-and-breakfast inns in St. Augustine. It was recently renovated and is an excellent lodging. Although it is new, it has quite a remarkable history.
Many years ago an elderly lady owned the house. She was a colorful character. A spinster who never married, she had several gentleman friends during her lifetime. She was a free-spirited and very independent woman who lived her life the way she wanted to live it, convention and propriety be damned. When she died of natural causes, or so the story goes, she left her house and everything in it, all her worldly possessions, to her younger brother who lived not far away.
The brother, although he and his wife and teenage daughter were saddened by her death, was very pleased to have inherited the house. It was a lovely home, and he thought seriously of moving his family into it. Besides, it was within a few minutes' walking distance from his work.
A week after the funeral, his daughter volunteered to begin the task of going through her aunt's things, sorting them out, and making an inventory, so that they could decide what to keep and what to sell. It was early on a summer morning when she walked over to her deceased aunt's house and went to work. Knowing that her father was considering moving into the house, she walked around the rooms, upstairs and down, with an eye toward a room of her own. Of course, she assumed that her parents would lay claim to the large master bedroom, but she particularly liked a smaller room in the corner, down the hall. With windows on two sides, it was well-lit and airy, and it overlooked the street and all its activity. It would be an exciting room for a teenage girl.
She tarried a few moments in the room, fantasizing about all the interesting things she might do in there if it ever got to be her room, and then she went back downstairs to begin sorting. In the small back room that had been her aunt's study, she found stacks and stacks of old papers and magazines; her aunt wasn't really a very neat person. First, in one of the piles she found an old Ouija board. This is really weird, she th
ought. She wasn't exactly certain what a Ouija board was or how to use it, but she knew it was something strange, so she set it aside. She continued sifting through each pile of papers and magazines, throwing most away and placing the rest in neat stacks. Then she came to a stack that contained several weird magazines. This was really too strange, and she got up and went back home, taking the Ouija board and mysterious magazines with her.
Her mother was alarmed when she saw the board and magazines, but her father, when he came home, just shook his head. As he told his wife and daughter, his sister was a bit of a kook, and he wasn't at all surprised to see such things. The three laughed about it, but the husband took the precaution of removing the items from the house and throwing them in a public trash disposal down the street.
The next day the girl went back to continue her work. This time, however, she felt a little odd and even nervous. She was downright jumpy, in fact. Shortly after she arrived and went back into her aunt's study, she heard a thumping noise, then another and another. The noise came from the second floor. It couldn't have been a squirrel on the roof, or even on the second floor, for that matter. It was much too loud. If it had been a squirrel, she wouldn't have even heard it. When the noise continued, she became frightened and ran home.
Breathless, she recounted what had happened to her mother who thought perhaps she was hearing things. Maybe the conversation of the previous evening about her aunt's Ouija board had activated her young imagination. When her father came home later, he smiled and reassured her that she probably hadn't heard anything or, if she had, the noise could easily be explained. He also suggested that his wife accompany her when she went back.
So the next day, mother and daughter went over to the empty house to finish the job. As soon as they unlocked the front door and walked into the house, the thumping noise started again, this time louder and quicker. Startled and terrified, they ran out of the house. Neither would go upstairs to find out what or who was making the pounding noise.