Ghost House Revenge

by Clare McNally

  “I must go!” she cried, wringing her tattered gown. “She comes now. She is evil!”

  “Who is she?” Melanie demanded.

  But the woman disappeared. Melanie took a step forward, and as she did so, the room light went out. She swung around terrified, expecting to see something hovering behind her in the darkness. But no one was there.

  “What do you want?’ Melanie whispered. “Who are you?”

  No answer. The clock above the sink began to tick loudly. Melanie stared up at it, unmoving. Her eyes began to droop, though she desperately wanted to stay awake. She sank down to the floor.

  She forced her eyes open again. But she wasn’t looking up at the clock. She was looking at the clock radio next to her bed. It was 7:30 A.M., and the sun was shining.

  It was just another dream, she told herself insistently. I just had the horrible incidents of last year on my mind.

  In broad daylight it was easier to convince herself not to be afraid.

  Much to Alicen’s relief, nothing was said about the incident at breakfast. Alicen sat with her head low to her cereal bowl, trying to make herself believe it had been a dream. But it had seemed so real!

  Across the table, Derek was also thinking about it. He recalled the series of nightmares Alicen had had after her mother died. Was that happening again? Or was his daughter overly impressed by tall tales of a young boy? Funny, Melanie had seemed a little unnerved about it all, more than she should have been if it was only a dream. He looked over the rim of his coffee cup at her. She was reading an art magazine, nibbling on a piece of toast. Derek recalled the strange way she had behaved the night before. He wondered if she had been hiding a secret—something to do with the murders Alicen had spoken of. But that was just ridiculous, Derek thought. Melanie had flatly denied it, and the VanBurens were hardly the types to be involved in murders. No, it was just a dream. That was all there was to it.

  “Mom, you have to sign a permission slip for me,” Gina said then, interrupting his thoughts. She pulled a piece of blue paper from between the pages of a book.

  “What’s it for?” Melanie asked.

  “The eighth grade is going on a trip to Vanderbilt Planetarium,” Gina explained.

  “Are you going?” Derek asked Alicen.

  Alicen nodded and produced her own slip of paper. Derek and Melanie read and signed them. Gina smiled at Melanie. Alicen did not smile at her father.

  “We’ll have to do something special for your graduation,” Gary said. “Maybe we could have a family reunion.”

  “What a good idea!” Melanie said. “Our family hasn’t really seen this house yet.”

  “You never had a housewarming?” Derek asked.

  “Well, we were kind of—busy the first months,” Melanie faltered.

  Alicen stirred her cereal. Without raising her head, she looked up at Melanie. What were they busy with? Murders?

  “What’s the matter?” Gina asked her.

  “Nothing,” Alicen said, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

  Later Gary and Derek left for a session of therapy and Gina and Kyle went out to the bus stop but Alicen dawdled, fingering the counter and finding excuses to delay. She bent down to tie a shoe that was already tied. Then she leaned heavily on the counter, finding a place for her elbow amid all the dishes and propping her chin on her hand. She looked up at Melanie.

  “Do you think I could have another bedroom?”

  “Why?” Melanie asked. “Because of last night?”

  Alicen nodded. “I saw a face—I know I did! It had blond hair, and it was ugly. I don’t want to stay in that room.”

  Melanie put her hand against Alicen’s cheek.

  “Honey, it’s just a dream,” she insisted. “This house is as safe as can be.”

  “Jamie Hutchinson said—”

  “Jamie Hutchinson is a big fibber,” Melanie said. “And if I get hold of him I’ll—well, never mind. Just realize that boys often make up stories to impress the girls they like.”

  “They do?”

  “They do,” Melanie said. “Hey, here comes the bus! You’d better hurry and catch up with the others.”

  Alicen started to run out the door, but before she did she turned and kissed Melanie on the cheek. Melanie watched her race down the hill, thinking her weight made her look much younger than thirteen. She wasn’t happy to hear about that boy teasing her. Wasn’t it obvious that Alicen had enough problems? A mother who was dead, a father who had no patience with her?

  Melanie went to the sink and tried to concentrate on the breakfast dishes. Somehow, alone in the kitchen with Alicen’s “dream” on her mind, she was taken back to the night when Gary had been hurt. She saw a tall, dark-haired intruder fighting with her husband. She heard Gary’s scream, then glass shattering.

  Somehow, she could believe that Alicen had really seen a face. What had she said? That it was blond-haired and ugly? Now Melanie closed her eyes and saw a face herself. It was of a young, pretty blond woman. She was smiling, but then the smile faded and turned into an evil grimace. Melanie’s eyes snapped open.

  She felt her lungs constrict, and a weakness in her legs that came when she was feeling guilty about something. But why? She had nothing to do with the woman’s death. Why did she always feel such pain to think about her? Last night, when Gary had mentioned the librarian’s death, she had wanted to scream. If it wasn’t her fault, why did she always feel such guilt about it?

  “It isn’t guilt,” Melanie said. “It’s sorrow.”

  She scrubbed hard at a frying pan. “Oh, Janice,” she whispered. “Why did you have to die like that?”

  Suddenly the frying pan slipped from her hand. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter and rocked there before settling at Melanie’s feet. Sighing, she bent down to retrieve it.

  “I’ve gotten myself so nervous I’m dropping things,” Melanie said out loud. ‘I’ve got to stop thinking this way!”

  She wiped at the pot with furious motions. “Everything is all right,” she said.

  She was unaware that an unseen hand had knocked the skillet from her, a gesture of anger at her words. Everything was not all right.

  You killed me! the being shouted, as if Melanie could hear her. It’s your fault I walk in darkness, and you’ll pay for it!

  But not yet, Melanie VanBuren. I won’t let you discover me until it’s too late.

  7

  Melanie decided the best way to conquer her fears was to work hard on her painting. She finished the two paintings for Sarah Kaufman sooner than she had expected. One day, she dropped Nancy off at kindergarten and headed toward the mayor’s house. It was a mansion on the other side of town, as big as theirs, but much newer.

  “Let me see the masterpieces,” Sarah said, inviting Melanie to sit down in the living room. “I can’t believe you finished them already!”

  She tore the brown paper from the two canvases and propped them against the table. Sarah gasped and lifted one of them to study it. Then she carried it to the fireplace, setting it on the mantel in front of a portrait of some distant relative. She stepped back and admired Melanie’s painting.

  “Look at the detail!” she cried happily. “I love the way the sun’s rays hit the church spire. And I can almost count every bud on the rosebushes.”

  She turned and smiled at Melanie. “They’re pink.”

  “Well, of course,” Melanie said. “That’s what you asked for.”

  “Marc is going to be so pleased,” Sarah said. “I haven’t told him about these, yet. They’re a surprise for his birthday.”

  As Sarah poured coffee into dainty gold demitasse cups, Melanie looked around the elegant living room. “Are these antiques family heirlooms?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. I found them in antique shops over the years.” Sarah said.

  “My husband collects antiques, too,” Melanie said. “That’s one of the reasons he bought our house. It’s the one at the top of Starbine Court.”

 
; “Oh, yes,” Sarah said. “Marc and I nearly bought it a few years ago.”

  Melanie’s eyebrows went up. She put her coffee cup back in its saucer. “Why didn’t you?” she asked, curious.

  “Well, I don’t really know,” Sarah said. She seemed embarrassed and turned to look out the French windows. “I just didn’t like the place. There was something about it that made me feel uneasy.”

  Melanie stiffened. “What was that?”

  “Oh, it was silly,” Sarah said, waving her hand. The huge diamond she wore on her finger sparkled brightly in the sunlight. “I’d been ill at the time—perhaps I just wasn’t receptive to it. Not to say it isn’t a beautiful home. But this one is more to my tastes. Your house has a rather masculine air about it, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose that reflects the man who built it,” Melanie said.

  “Do you know about him?” Sarah asked, leaning forward eagerly.

  “His name was Jacob Armand,” Melanie said, not really wanting to talk about it, but there was no way out. “He was a captain in the British navy during the 1790s.”

  “How interesting,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, it is,” Melanie said, taking a sip of coffee. “But that’s all I know about him. Say, these roses are lovely. Do you have a garden?”

  “I sure do,” Sarah said eagerly. “Would you like to see it?”

  They wandered in the garden, then sat outside talking, until Melanie realized her children would be home from school. But before she left Melanie invited Sarah and the mayor for dinner the following week. She liked Sarah, and it wouldn’t hurt her career to have the mayor and his wife known as her patrons.

  Melanie left the house in a happy mood, whistling as she drove home. All of a sudden, she spotted Alicen Miller trudging down the street. Wondering why she wasn’t on the school bus, Melanie honked the horn. Alicen turned and squinted at her. Melanie pulled the car over to the curb and let her in.

  “What happened?”

  “I missed the bus,” Alicen said, wriggling in the seat to get comfortable.

  “Wasn’t Gina with you?”

  “No, she must be home by now,” said Alicen. She clicked her tongue and sighed. “Oh! I had to stay after school because I got into trouble today. That’s the real reason I missed the bus.”

  “You?” Melanie asked. “How on earth did you get in trouble?”

  “That dumb old Mr. Percy—that’s my teacher—sent me to the principal’s office. He said I never pay attention to him. I tried really hard, but I kept thinking about that dream I had.”

  Melanie took the girl’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Is that still bothering you?” she asked. “I know it was horrible, but it was just a dream. Keep telling yourself that, and you’ll feel better.”

  “That’s what I was doing this afternoon,” Alicen said. “And I got into trouble ’cause of it.”

  “Did you explain the situation to the principal?”

  “She didn’t want to hear it,” Alicen said. She stared down at the books on her lap. “No one wants to listen to me.”

  “And they call themselves teachers,” Melanie grumbled. Louder, she said, “They should at least have driven you home. Your father must be frantic!”

  “My father never worries about me,” Alicen said. “He probably doesn’t know I’m not home yet.”

  That evening when Derek left for the health club, he packed his jacket and a good shirt in his duffel bag. As he drove to the club, his thoughts were on Liza. He hoped she would accept an invitation to go out for a midnight snack. He was trying to decide where they should go when something made him look in his rear-view mirror. A few hundred yards behind, he saw the blond hitchhiker again. Sighing, he pushed his foot down on the gas pedal. At least he knew she was alive, he thought. But she’d never get in his car again.

  He sped down the road a few more miles, putting a distance between himself and the girl before easing the pressure of his foot.

  I don’t know why I let that girl upset me, he thought as he entered the “safety” of the club.

  One look at Liza made him forget the hitchhiker completely. She was sitting in the waiting room, dressed in white terry, racket in hand. She smiled at Derek and stood up.

  “Am I late?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” Liza said. “Go put your things in a locker, and I’ll meet you on the court.”

  Much to Derek’s surprise, Liza turned out to be a terrific racquet ball player. She explained that the Z-shot he’d helped her with a week ago was her only problem and that she’d been playing the game for years. She beat him two out of three.

  “I probably shouldn’t admit this,” Derek said as they walked off the court, “but my ego’s been shattered.”

  “It’d be wrong to say I’m sorry,” Liza teased. “I played fair and square.”

  “You play like a man,” Derek said. “Just watch out next time, lady.”

  Liza put her hands on her hips and tossed back her dark hair.

  “What do you mean I ‘play like a man’?” she asked “I play to win, and that’s all. You’re sexist.”

  “Sorry,” Derek said. “It’s just that I’ve never been defeated by a woman.”

  Shut up, Derek, he told himself. Before you blow it.

  “It isn’t that painful, is it?” Liza asked.

  Derek thought for a moment. “No, I guess not. Especially not when you’re my partner. Say, would you like to relax in the whirlpool awhile?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Liza said. “Meet you there in ten minutes.”

  Derek was relieved to find the whirlpool unoccupied. He leaned back, letting the water massage his aching muscles. A day of therapy with Gary, and three games had made him sore all over. He opened his eyes and smiled lazily when Liza sat down beside him.

  “That bathing suit is beautiful,” Derek said. “Almost as beautiful as the woman in it.”

  “Okay,” Liza said, laughing, “you’ve earned your Brownie points. I don’t think you’re sexist any more.”

  “I mean it,” Derek said. “You look as if you’re in top physical condition. I—uh—I’m speaking from a therapist’s point of view, of course.”

  “Of course,” Liza said, smiling. “Remember I’m a dancer, and I keep myself in shape.”

  “That’s obvious,” Derek said.

  That’s the understatement of the year, he thought. She was downright stunning. Her one-piece suit clung tightly to her, its shiny material showing off her curves. There was just enough fat on her body to make her soft looking, but not an ounce too much. She had rolled her hair up, and now her cheekbones stood out. Derek couldn’t help staring at her.

  “I’ve thought about you all week,” he said.

  “Really?” Liza asked, sounding pleased. “I was afraid you’d forget me.”

  “Are you kidding?” Derek asked. “I was hoping you’d want to see me again.”

  Liza moved a little closer to him. A second later, he felt her hand on his thigh. He gaped at her, then grinned. She smiled slightly, teasingly.

  “I’ve only known you for a while,” she said, “yet I know you’re my kind of man.”

  “Thanks,” Derek said. God, it had been so long since a woman had touched him this way. Unseen beneath the foamy waters, he slid his arm around Liza’s waist.

  “I think I’m falling in love,” he said.

  “Me, too,” was the answer.

  They stared at each other. Without another word, Derek leaned forward and kissed Liza. She moaned a little, pushing herself closer to him. They kissed passionately, so passionately that they suddenly slipped and went under the water. They quickly pulled each other up and sat there laughing hysterically.

  “Do all great love affairs start this way?” Liza asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Derek said. “But they ought to. I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

  He thought for a split second of Elaine, feeling a little guilty. Then
he smiled again and took Liza’s hand.

  “Want to get dressed?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I’ve got to get home to practice.”

  “Practice?” Derek asked. “But I was hoping we could go out somewhere.”

  “Some other time,” Liza said, giving him an apologetic smile. “I have a recital coming up tomorrow.”

  “You should have told me about it,” Derek said. “I would have gone.”

  “It’s private. Only for the dance instructor and class. I’ll be advanced according to how I do on this.”

  “You’ll do great,” Derek said. “I just wish you could come with me tonight.”

  “Don’t be disappointed, honey,” Liza said, kissing him.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Derek said.

  “You bet.”

  They hugged for a few minutes, their wet bodies pressed so close that they could feel each other’s heat rising. At last, Derek pulled away.

  He didn’t wait to see Liza again, but went straight to his Volvo. He unlocked the door, got behind the wheel, and drove out of the parking lot. The car had taken him halfway home when someone suddenly tapped his shoulder and said, “Hello.”

  Startled out of his thoughts of Liza, Derek turned around and saw the hitchhiker sitting in the back seat. She was grinning.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” Derek demanded angrily.

  “I waited for you,” the woman said. “I wanted to talk.”

  “What for?” Derek asked. “Why do you keep following me? We don’t even know each other.”

  “Well, my name is Janice,” she said. “And I know you very well.”

  Suddenly she jumped over the back of the seat. Her hand fell between Derek’s legs, grabbing him. He jumped, feeling a pain in his groin as intense as if she had kicked him. The car jumped a curb, and Derek moved quickly to straighten it again.

  “Are you crazy?” Derek shouted, pulling over and stopping. “Get the hell out of my car!”

  “I want you,” the woman said, unbuttoning his slacks.

  Derek pushed her hand away. It was like moving cotton. He turned and looked at her, assessing her strength. She’d be easy enough to throw out of the car, but he didn’t want to give her a chance to have him arrested for assault.