****
The next morning, I cleaned the attic and found the chest my uncle had made. I soon had everything sorted into separate piles. I had hauled things downstairs and was about to take another trip when I glanced out the window.
Was that movement near the pergola? I clattered down the narrow stairs towards the back door. I had goosebumps again and a queasy feeling in my stomach. Was there someone to answer my questions? I jogged along the path towards the garden gate. I paused when I saw an elderly couple walking hand in hand.
“Hi. Enjoying the garden? I’m afraid it’s a tangled mess,” I said as I strode forward. “It caught the brunt of that big storm.”
“Oh, you mean you can see us,” the man said, as he paused beside the pergola.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be able to see you?” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. “You live nearby?”
“You might say that. Surprised you can see us. Most people can’t,” the woman said, looking up.
The couple looked sweet together and wore old fashioned clothes. I said. “Who are you and what are you doing in my garden?”
“Your garden. Thought it was John’s garden.” The man answered. “I am Paul and this is my wife Francesca. You are?”
“Kimberly. John’s niece.” I had goosebumps on my arms and had a weird feeling. There was something strange about this couple.
“The cottage and garden hold secrets,” Paul’s walrus moustache bobbed up and down. “Start in the attic and the den.”
“We have to go now,” Francesca put her hand on Paul’s arm. “See you again. Surprised you could see us, though.”
“Who is buried behind the weeping willow?”
“A couple of youngsters,” Paul answered.
“What youngsters?” I ran my fingers through my tangled curls.
“My dear, all will be revealed in due time.” Francesca smiled and turned away.
“Look in the attic and your uncle’s secretary desk. You will find your answers,” Paul turned towards the broken gate. “You’ll figure it out.”
“You will find my diary in your uncle’s desk,” Francesca said with a smile.
Their voices faded as they walked away. When I looked across the meadow there wasn’t anyone in sight. For a second, I thought I heard a chuckle. I turned and walked to the cottage.
Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016 Page 53