Talitha

by Rachael Rawlings

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Talitha

  A Haunting

  Rachael Rawlings

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachael Rawlings

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-942212-89-8

  Hydra Publications

  Goshen, KY 40026

  www.hydrapublications.com

  To my wonderful Facebook friends, my crazy parrot people, and all the dreamers out there who like to travel with me.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Rachael Rawlings

  Prologue

  Eddie’s truck belched a final cloud of exhaust as the engine rattled into silence. He opened the door slowly, his eyes trained on the car just ahead of him. A sleek silver foreign job was parked at an angle and blocked the drive, its nose tucked almost to the basin of the huge fountain. He couldn’t see a person behind the wheel, so he figured the owner was already out.

  “Shouldn’t be walking around here,” Eddie muttered. “Break his fool neck.” He struggled out of his seat and dropped the few feet onto the weed strewn ground, his boots hitting the earth with a muffled thud. He was huffing from tobacco stained lips by the time he had mounted the stairs to the front porch. His heart jumped as a figure separated itself from the front of the house.

  “Didn’t see you there, sir,” he said keeping his voice even. “I’ll have the place open in a jiff.” There was no audible response, but he thought he could see a nod. He dug into the deep pocket on his jacket and pulled out the old key. It was oversized, ridiculous really, but with the formal ornamentation, the key matched the overall look of the house. He tried not to think of the shadow beside him. Pale skin, dark hair, shadowed eyes.

  With a harsh intake of air, Eddie struggled to open the door, the hinges protesting as the crack widened. Inside the foyer, clouds of dust stirred by the draft of air swirled up the staircase like a figure racing for cover. A sweet stench of mold and mildew drifted out, and Eddie turned his head away in disgust. It was his job to take care of the lawn, to slice through the rapidly growing weeds that led up the pitted driveway to the collapsing front porch. It was not his responsibility to get near this cursed house. Talitha. The name seemed too sweet to belong to a place such as this. But here he was, standing next to a man that looked more like a ghost than flesh and blood, opening the place up.

  He coughed and covered his mouth and nose with the stained collar of his work shirt. “Well, here we are, Mr. Edwards. If you need anything else, you let me know.” He started to back away, heading down the porch steps.

  “Do you have a light?”

  The voice was as dry as the wind gusts, scarcely loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the insects nesting in the weeds. But Eddie knew the man had been sick so he paused, handing over his flashlight he had tucked in his work belt.

  “It works. The batteries are fresh. But as I said before, I don’t think I’d be going in there. No one’s been caring for it, and I’ve seen some serious signs of rot.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll be careful.” The voice was cool and dispassionate. “I’ll give this back as soon as I’m finished.”

  Eddie took this as a dismissal and was grateful. He paused on the steps as the man opened the door wider and flicked on the flashlight. Briefly, the figure of the man was outlined by the failing glow of sunlight leaking in through the windows, then the door was closed. Eddie shook his head and descended the rest of the stairs. Never in his days would he have thought anyone would want to go back in that house. And now he was back. The only remaining member of the family that had been cursed by that house had come home.

  Chapter One

  An ant moved purposefully across the floor, so tiny it was barely visible against the scuffed linoleum. Climbing determinedly up the cabinets, it stopped at the rim of the mustard yellow countertop and paused. The 13 others following it did not and ran rampant over their companion and the counter, searching for crumbs. Claire felt an uncomfortable sympathy with the trampled ant. She knew what it felt like to be downtrodden.

  Claire knew there were 14 ants. She had counted them. She also knew there were three tiny holes in her tee shirt, just around the collar, caused from excessive use of bleach, and four stray threads at the bottom where the hem was coming undone. Even her jeans were starting to wear thin at the knees. Her hair hung in a straight ponytail down her back, almost to the waist of her jeans, and she pushed her hands through the soft strands in silent frustration. With slow deliberation, she stood and began mopping the counters with the cheap paper towels. Sitting here and waiting for the inevitable would do her no good. She was still scrubbing at the table, a pile of towels on the old tabletop, when the door was flung open and her roommate backed her way into the tiny kitchen.

  “Hey, give me a hand, will you?” Noel questioned as she held the door open with an elbow.

  Claire quickly got up and took a grocery bag dangling from Noel’s fingers. She held the door open as Noel nudged a third bag in with her foot. The odor of spicy chicken filled the air as Noel pulled the top container out of the bag at her feet and pried the lid off.

  “I’m starving. You know, you’re never supposed to go grocery shopping when you’re hungry. I can see why now. I think I bought too much.” Noel took a large bite of chicken and put the container in the middle of the table.

  Claire frowned at the bags. Then she looked up at her impetuous roommate. “Where did you get the money? I thought you were broke for the rest of the week.”

  Noel looked innocently at Claire. “I found a $20 in the couch cushion. I might have emptied the penny jar. I knew we needed to eat…” Her smile was contagious, and Claire decided to drop the subject. With the bind they were in now, no $20 was going to save them.

  “We got our eviction notice,” Claire said calmly.

  Noel didn’t look surprised. They had been expecting it, dreaded it, with no way to catch up on their bill. They had been skating on promises and smiles for long enough, and they both knew it wasn’t going to last forever.

  “Okay, now don’t panic,” Noel said, pacing the kitchen.” Don’t panic” had become their theme and echoed hollowly in Claire’s ears. Noel stopped her pacing abruptly, and her
hands dived into the grocery bag and emerged with the daily newspaper. “I’ve got two really good ads for today.” She opened the paper and spread it out on the table. “I scanned it while I was checking out.”

  Claire sighed and sat down in the nearest chair. For weeks, they had been combing every want ad and newspaper, website, and email posting they could find in the Louisville area, including the small towns that radiated from the larger Kentucky city, hoping to find a situation that would allow them work and a place to stay. But it was a tight economy, and jobs were hard to come by, especially if someone could only work part time and hadn’t finished her degree.

  “Listen to this,” Noel continued, pointing to one of the tightly printed ads. “‘Wanted, help for light house work, care of senior citizen’,” she stopped and scanned the ad quickly, “some cooking involved. It looks like it’s located in J-town, so not a far drive from campus.”

  Claire bent over the paper, elbows on the table, and wisps of hair tickling her cheek. “Does it include a room?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Noel examined the ad, using a thick red marker to outline it with a bloody loop, her brow marked with a frown. “Now that one would be a live-in situation for one of us, but listen to this...” She flipped to the next page and paused dramatically. “‘Wanted, housekeepers for large renovation’ see, it says ‘housekeepers,’ plural, right? I figure we can both apply for this one. And it provides a room, flexible hours... It sounds perfect.” She repeated the mark, circling the other ad as well. “I was reading this in the car and nearly peed myself, I was so excited. I think this might be it!”

  “I don’t know about perfect,” Claire responded, glancing at the text. “Large renovation. I wonder how large they’re talking about. And I wonder who lives there. And, where is it? It just says Shelby County. The ‘Talitha’ house. I’ve never even heard of the place.”

  Noel made a face and took the paper again to fold it neatly. “Okay, Debbie Downer, I see where you’re going with this. But it sounds good to me, and our options aren’t exactly wide open. Besides, it can’t hurt to phone them and ask our questions. I’m going to call about both jobs tomorrow morning.” Her face sobered. “How long do we have here?”

  “One week starting tomorrow. Mrs. Chambers gave us an extension, but if it was up to George, we’d be out tonight,” Claire responded, taking a piece of chicken for herself.

  “How could a nice lady like that end up with an ass like him?” Noel was on her feet, rinsing her hands in the sink before pulling more groceries from the bag.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he was a real looker in his day.”

  Noel rolled her eyes dramatically, and Claire chuckled at her expression.

  “There must have been some reason,” Noel said absently. “Remember her apartment? Sad how it was, like, so empty.”

  “Just her and her old man,” Claire agreed. “It was sad.”

  Noel nodded and then shook her head briskly as though shaking the thoughts from her head. “Are you going to start packing?” she asked stowing the paper bag under the counter as she neatened up.

  “No, don’t have time,” Claire responded between mouthfuls. “I’ve got to study tonight for the exam. I won’t be able to call on any ads either.” She looked apologetic.

  “It’s okay,” Noel responded. “I’m going to call tonight and follow up whenever they’ll see me. We’ll get it figured out. Worst comes to worst, is there any way you can ask your folks for some help? Just for a few months?”

  “No,” Claire interjected, frowning. “Definitely not. I can’t go back to them and ask for money...” she trailed off, feeling defeated. She only had until May, then she could go home, master’s degree in hand, and help her parents. “Just not now.”

  “You’re right,” Noel said quickly. “I sometimes forget how rough things have been for them.” She turned and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “How’s your dad doing? I haven’t seen him in a month at least.”

  Claire’s father had had a sudden and severe heart attack at the beginning of the summer, and it had changed the world dramatically for their family. Claire shuddered at the memory. She had been walking the University campus early in May, one final exam left, her mind full of equations from the last test she had taken. All her troubles had seemed so simple then. Just passing the classes, going to the cozy bookstore where she stocked the shelves, getting the first glance at books she would get to read during her free time. The sun had been glaring and hot, and the heat had been a heavy pressure in the air. That hadn’t bothered her though. The sun was hot because summer was coming. But for a moment, a sudden splash of panic, she felt a bone deep chill rush along her skin and then beneath it, into her flesh, muscles, organs, the marrow of her. She knew something was happening. A stutter of the sunlight, like a flash of shade darker than night, made her catch her breath and hold it. Her panicked gaze had revealed nothing, but she had stopped and stood so very still, feeling the weight of the air, now cold, the chill that came from within. The sensation was quick and now gone. She had forced her feet to move on, traveling over the smooth green lawns without seeing any of the students passing around her or hearing their chatter of conversation. She had reached her classroom building and was mounting the front steps when her phone had vibrated in her pocket. Her mother’s number was lit in sour green, and her fingers trembled as she answered the call. Heart attack, surgery, called in family, calling a priest, all a terrifying reality she never wanted to experience again. The memory alone could bring her to her knees, in prayer and in desperation.

  But her father had miraculously and successfully undergone the surgery and was progressing through rehabilitation with only minor setbacks. Her mother had aged frighteningly during the ordeal but the little family unit that was she and her brothers had stitched up tightly into a rigid support for her parents. Because of the surgery, her father had been off work for several months and still able to tolerate only part time. All the spare money had gone into paying the medical bills, leaving little for Claire’s tuition.

  And Claire would have been fine with her student loans and her own paycheck if her part time job hadn’t gone up in smoke, literally. When the small book store in the Highlands where she had been working burned to the ground a month ago, it had taken with it all the money the owners had, and insurance was only going to cover part of the rebuilding. Claire had said goodbye with regret.

  Now, unemployed and up to her neck in student loans to cover tuition, books, and living expenses, Claire was losing her apartment. Noel wasn’t much better. Her hard-earned money from waitressing covered groceries and the car insurance for the tiny Ford Escort parked out back.

  Together they had made enough to eke by and continue to go to classes. With Claire’s lost income, the rent money had disappeared. Noel’s family was unable to help much but had generously donated the car and some of the furniture.

  “Dad’s fine, getting better every day.” Claire pushed a stray lock of hair from her face, forcing a smile, and picked up another piece of chicken. “Mom says he’ll go back to work full time in a few weeks, but only on light duty.”

  “Well, that’s still good news. I know he’s driving your mom crazy while he’s home. He’ll be happier when he can be back in the office.” Noel had spent much of her senior year at Claire’s house and had seen the family in action.

  Claire smiled and stretched her arms above her head, easing her stiff muscles. “Yeah,” she said and then looked at her watch. “I’d better hit the books, and you’ve got calls to make,” she said. Seeing that the kitchen was mostly picked up and the few groceries were put away, Claire took her mug into her bedroom to work.

  An hour later, Claire was still reading, a half-empty cup of cold coffee at her elbow. Noel came in, a smile of victory illuminating her face.

  “Well, calls are done and guess what? The house sitter job is already filled, but the guy about the house cleaning seems interested in us.” She paused and looked at her notebook.
“His name is Charles Danwood, and he’s managing the renovation of the house, or rather, the ‘estate’.” Noel’s gesture indicated the term was the one Charles had chosen. “They’re going to turn it into a hotel, like an upscale bed and breakfast with all the amenities. I think they’re considering the horse racing crowd.” Noel shrugged. “Anyway, the workers are there already and have been muddling around in their own mess. They need someone to clean up after them as they go so they can avoid tracking in construction dust into the finished spaces. It would be easy work, you know, dusting and sweeping and keeping the bathrooms decent. He said he could use as many people to help as he could get, so we’re both in if we want it.”

  “No interviews?” Claire interrupted.

  “Well, yes. I’m going in tomorrow to talk to him, but I think it’s just a formality. They seriously need the help and apparently there haven’t been many responses.”

  “I wonder why,” Claire said, raising an eyebrow. Instantly she could envision a bleak old house perched atop a hill, a single light shining from the window like the house in the movie “Psycho.”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out tomorrow,” Noel responded. “Now, let’s break out the ice cream! I feel like celebrating.”

  The next day, for Claire, was one disaster after another. She arrived late for her first class because her bus was running behind schedule, and Noel had taken the car for her interview. By the time Claire had sat down in the classroom, her hair was falling loose around her face, and she could feel the sweat inching down her back from the run. Her books felt as though they weighed 50 pounds each, and the cute sandals she had gotten on sale had rubbed a painful blister on her heel. After settling into her seat, she realized she had forgotten her breakfast bagel and spent the next two hours in agony with her stomach burning from a cup of coffee and too little sleep.