Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One

by Wild Rose Press Authors

  “Ummm…Preston?”

  He turned to look at me, his blue eyes clouded with something akin to concern. Interesting.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you…ah, have you heard anything strange about the house?” I averted my gaze to the ground, concentrating on the brick floor of the barn. I couldn’t look at him.

  “Strange? What do you mean?”

  “Like…uh…noises?” Why am I doing this? I feel like an idiot.

  Preston raised an eyebrow. “You mean like the sound of footsteps?”

  My gaze jerked to him, and my eyes grew wide. He knew. “Exactly!”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard them before, when I stayed in the house during my apartment renovations. I take it you’ve heard them.”

  Relief flooded through me, and my legs felt weak. I sat on the bale of hay that hadn’t yet been loaded on the golf cart. I only nodded in response for fear I might cry if I tried to speak. I wanted to hug and kiss Preston, which might not be so bad given his good looks and the fact he didn’t seem to despise me as much for some reason. I contained myself.

  “Is that what had you spooked yesterday?”

  “Yes, but there’s more,” I said, gaining confidence from the fact he didn’t think me some crazy woman. “Sometimes the doors lock of their own accord and won’t let me in or out. It happened yesterday when Mr. Marvel was here.”

  “Is that why he left so quickly?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he didn’t seem compelled to help.”

  “Well, it doesn’t surprise me. The only reason he showed his face was because a beautiful woman inherited this place, and he wanted to sink his hooks into you.” His cheeks reddened, and he quickly looked away after speaking.

  Preston thinks I’m beautiful? I decided not to embarrass him further by commenting on that point. He’d just loosened up; I didn’t want to risk angry Mr. McClay returning. “Sink his hooks into me?”

  “Yeah, the grapevine says things aren’t going so well at Overfield Farm. He’s let a lot of good employees go and sold several head of horses.”

  Grapevine. Yep, sure was an active one, and answered the question why Cyrus had come calling dressed to the nines as soon I moved in. While I felt a little let down that my neighbor hadn’t just been making a friendly visit, honestly Cyrus Marvel was the least of my worries.

  As I rose from my position on the hay bale, an idea flashed through my mind. My cheeks heated at the thought of asking my next question, but I needed vindication and an ally against unseen forces. “Would you mind staying in the house tonight, Preston? Just to verify what I’ve said.”

  He raised an eyebrow but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. “I don’t doubt what you’ve said but if you think it’s necessary, I’m game.”

  “Thank you. Why are you being so nice to me? The day before, you had no respect for me and now you seem…” I should have bit my tongue rather than let those words fly past my lips but what was done was done. I prepared for the onslaught that was sure to come.

  He appeared to consider his words before he said, “I didn’t know what to expect and figured you for some rich kid that had inherited the estate. Victoria only mentioned your name a time or two before her death so it was a bit of a shock when I heard you were the heiress.”

  His gaze snagged mine, and he took a step forward. “When you showed up at the barn the other day, I figured you all wrong. I apologize for the things I said.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you.”

  He took a step back. A horse banged a bucket at the end of the barn. “I’d say they’re getting impatient. Ready to get started?”

  “Sure.”

  Without another word, we went to work.

  ****

  After we finished barn chores, I went into the house to take a shower and prepare a room for Preston, even though he said there was no need. Every time I stepped over the threshold, butterflies bombarded my stomach, as I anticipated another ghostly event. Thankfully, I was spared any hijinx…until I got in the shower.

  I’d turned the water on while I undressed to make sure it was nice and warm before I stepped under the spray. The warm water felt good, and I started washing my hair. Suddenly, the water turned ice cold. I squealed and attempted to avoid the spray of water but the shower head followed my every move making it impossible to evade. The drain yawned open like a giant mouth waiting for its next meal. I jumped back to avoid the pitfall while my heart hammered in my chest.

  Shampoo dripped into my eyes stinging them, making it hard to see. I fumbled with the latch to the door and tried to escape the freezing water to no avail. Then the water flashed to boiling hot, burning my iced-down skin. I banged on the glass door willing it to open while fire accosted my body.

  As suddenly as it began the shower head snapped back in place, the drain shrunk and the water returned to its original temperature. I stood still for a moment, crossing my fingers the attack had ended. Deciding it had, I quickly completed my shower routine and bolted out the door.

  I couldn’t live like this. Had Aunt Victoria experienced the same problems? From what Mr. Ferguson said she had lived in this house for many years, so had she gone insane before she died? Had the house killed her? I dried myself off, made up my face, brushed my hair and donned clean jeans and a T-shirt.

  I fetched sheets and a blanket from the linen closet and made my way across the house to one of the guest rooms. I used the first room, reasoning it was closer to my room, ensuring Preston would hear the noises I heard, at least I hoped. I made the bed and fluffed the curtains, hoping not too much dust lay on them. Not many furnishings but a bed, dresser and TV. I didn’t figure Preston would have an issue since it’d only be for one night. I questioned whether or not we should try to stay in the house tonight, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just me, regardless of the fact Preston said he had heard the footsteps. Perhaps the footsteps had a logical explanation and my mind imagined everything else from there.

  I went to the kitchen and made a quick sandwich for lunch, then threw enough chicken and veggies for two in the crock pot. Preston had graciously agreed to help me out so the least I could do was make him some dinner.

  While I ate my lunch, I looked out the kitchen window and saw Preston replacing a board on the fence. I wondered what other things he might do around the farm and whether I should hire a landscaper for the flowerbeds and such. A housekeeper ran through my mind, but honestly I didn’t think any housekeeper would put up with the shenanigans of this house. If we could get to the root of the problem, maybe then I could inquire about hiring someone. I planned to take a job or do volunteer work in the near future so finding a capable body to handle the house would become a necessity.

  I turned from the window and crossed to the French doors to talk to Preston about other staffing needs. I found it hard to grasp the fact that I needed staff, but a place this big required constant attention. The French doors refused to let me pass. I checked every set, just in case, but found them all locked. I knew an attempt at the front door was futile. Just as I turned away from the doors, the crock pot shattered into pieces and the kitchen drawers and cabinet doors started opening and slamming shut at a rapid pace.

  I screamed and backed away from the spectacle until the French doors prevented further retreat. My body shook, and I shut my eyes, willing it to go away. Suddenly, I had the sensation of falling, until strong capable hands grasped me, and I looked up into a sea of blue. I blinked.

  “Preston.” His name came out like a squeak.

  “Having trouble?” he asked, his brows raised. “I heard you scream. What’s wrong?”

  I regained my footing and tried to look anywhere other than his face. “Umm…yeah. The crock pot exploded and then the drawers and cabinets starting opening and closing.” Even though I did my best to remain in control, my hands shook along with my shoulders. I couldn’t seem to stop. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

  “Co
me on,” he said as he put his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the barn.

  Before I realized it, we sat at a bistro table in Preston’s apartment, an open bottle of bourbon between us. I took a swig, enjoying the burn down my throat. It steadied me a bit.

  “There’s something you should know,” he said after he downed his drink, his expression deadly serious.

  I had the distinct feeling I didn’t want to hear his next words. Finding it suddenly impossible to speak, I nodded for him to continue.

  “Victoria died in that house.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Wha-what? How?”

  He cleared his throat, his eyes showing his uncertainty as to whether or not to continue.

  “Preston, you have to tell me.”

  He gave a nod and poured more bourbon into his glass. After he took a drink, he spoke. “A few months before she passed, Victoria said she had trouble sleeping but never confided anything else so I thought nothing of it. Just figured she had a lot on her mind. Then I saw less and less of her. She stayed inside most of the time, never came out to check on the horses, never asked about them, both of which seemed weird because she loved her horses. Once again I chalked it up to a busy schedule.” He stopped speaking, perhaps to gather his thoughts. “But on that day, I needed her to make a decision on something so I went in the house.” He paused. “I found her at the bottom of the staircase, her neck broken.”

  I gasped. No one mentioned any of this at the estate proceedings. Of course, Mr. Ferguson probably didn’t want to upset me or color the estate in my eyes but still… I didn’t know what to think or do.

  “Do you think…Was it the house?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We sat silently for a few minutes, each of us absorbed in our thoughts.

  “Why don’t you stay up here while I finish chores then we’ll order a pizza and go back to the house together?” Preston said.

  I couldn’t bring myself to argue and honestly, my streak of optimism started to fail me. I was a happy-go-lucky person that saw the bright side of everything. However, this was one circumstance in which I couldn’t find a bright spot.

  “Okay, but I want to help with chores. I really don’t feel like being alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  After another swig of bourbon, I followed him out the door.

  Chapter Four

  As soon as we entered the house, I felt my stomach knot. Unexplainable events will do that to a person, I suppose, especially when coupled with a family member’s demise.

  The sun had set long ago giving the house an even spookier feeling, with shadows in every corner and of course, the promise of paranormal activity. I did my best to keep my heart rate under control.

  We parted ways at the top of the stairs, with Preston giving me an encouraging smile and a pat on my shoulder. “I’ll be right down the hall.”

  I nodded, but my knees were stiff as I walked into my bedroom. I got ready for bed without a hitch and dove under the covers hoping nothing terrible would happen. Surprisingly, I quickly drifted off to sleep though I think mental exhaustion helped.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t last long as something grabbed my arm and roughly pulled, causing my shoulder to wrench. My eyes flashed open, and I found myself standing beside Preston who held my arm, a broomstick in his other hand pointed across the room. At the end of the broomstick was a blue light vaguely in the shape of a man. The figure emitted an extremely angry vibe. Footsteps echoed from above and banging ensued.

  “Back slowly toward the door,” Preston said. “Now.”

  I did as he requested, unable to take my gaze off the blue figure. We exited the room. Only then did Preston look at me.

  “We need to leave this house.” His stone-cold expression offered me no chance to argue, not that I planned on it. As we walked down the stairs, I wondered if the house would let us leave or if it would bar the doors as it did almost every day since I’d arrived. The fear that the house might keep us corralled within, in the company of the ghost, made it hard to keep my legs moving.

  Preston went directly to the front door, which, to my surprise and relief, opened easily. We walked out into the chilly night air and didn’t stop until we made it safely into his apartment.

  After he locked the door, he looked me square in the eye. “Are you okay?”

  I felt like I’d been run over by a bus, and my forehead and neck ached, but I chalked it all up to the wreath incident. “Yeah. Why?”

  He fidgeted and his gaze shifted away from me, only to return, a jumble of emotions swirling in his eyes. “Well…uh…”

  “What?” Fear flared and rooted me to the floor.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

  Unnerved by his avoidance, I said, “Tell me.”

  “That thing had you by the neck, attempting to drag you through the ceiling.”

  I felt the blood rush out of my head, and the room started to spin. Abruptly and without grace, I plopped down onto the couch.

  Preston rushed to my side. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Lie down. There you go, just breathe.”

  I tried to regain the breath that had rushed out of my lungs. No wonder my head and neck ached.

  “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. It’s a good thing I stayed with you tonight and even better, I know how to get rid of it.”

  I sat up so quickly, the room threatened to tilt again but I hung on. “You do? How?”

  “Well, maybe I can’t get rid of it, but I’ve got a friend, a medium. She can talk to the dead.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Not at all. I’ve seen her do it.” His face showed no humor so maybe he spoke the truth, though I highly doubted anyone could speak to the dead.

  “She’ll find out what it wants.”

  “What if it just wants to live in the house alone? What do I do then?” Yeah, my words came out as a whine but who could blame me?

  “From what she’s told me, they always want something but have a funny way of asking.”

  I sat quietly for a moment. Really what other choice did I have? Given the story of Aunt Victoria and the escalated attacks, I had to find help, trust someone. I could no longer ignore the problem unless I wanted to suffer the same fate as Aunt Victoria.

  “Okay,” I said as I nodded my head. “Ask her when she can come.”

  “Will do. As soon as the sun comes up.” He stood and put his hand out to me.

  I took his hand, and he hoisted me to my feet. For an awkward moment, we stood looking into each other’s eyes. I felt myself wanting to lean toward his lips.

  “You take the bedroom. I’m good on the couch.” The spell between us broke, which was just as well. I didn’t have the energy to explore any attraction between us.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that to you. It’s not your fault the creepy, grumpy house doesn’t like me.”

  “Guests take the bedroom,” he said. He put his hands on my back and propelled me forward to an open doorway leading off the small kitchen. The huge bed on the other side of the room looked very inviting and comfortable.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

  “Absolutely.” He gave me a gentle shove forward. “The bathroom is right there on the left.” He pointed. “Good night,” Preston said and quietly shut the door.

  Five seconds after my head hit the pillow, blissful unawareness surrounded me.

  ****

  Preston wasted no time calling his friend. By the time I retrieved some clothes from the house and took a shower, at Preston’s because he didn’t want me in the house alone and honestly neither did I, a shiny black truck parked in front of the barn. I walked down the stairs to the barn area and saw Preston talking with a tall, willowy redhead.

  A twinge of something…perhaps jealousy swept over me. While I found Preston attractive and his warming attitude toward me nice, I had no right to feel that way. Bes
ides, she could be his girlfriend for all I knew.

  They turned as I walked toward them.

  Preston waved a hand at the redhead. “Leslie, this is Holly. Holly, Leslie.”

  I stepped forward and shook Holly’s hand. Her wide green eyes sparkled, and she had a light sprinkle of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Long red tresses caught the sunshine outside the barn, gleaming like fire. “Nice to meet you, Holly.” I smiled at her.

  She smiled back. “Likewise. So Preston tells me you have a ghost problem.”

  My hand fell to my side. “Uh…yeah, I guess I do.”

  She leaned against the barn wall, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans. “Tell me about it.”

  So I did. I relayed everything I had experienced right up to Preston pulling me out of the house. For some reason, I didn’t offer the information about Victoria. Whether protecting family secrets or a fear of her reaction held me back, I can’t say.

  She raised an eyebrow when I finished but said nothing.

  A strangled noise escaped Preston, and I glanced at him.

  His face had a red tinge to it and his brows were drawn. “You didn’t tell about the wreath or the table and vase,” he said, his voice almost a growl.

  “Uh…sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed, swirling with a mixture of anger and concern, but he said nothing more.

  “Well.” My attention snapped back to Holly at the sound of her voice. “Sounds like you have a big problem.”

  “What do I do?”

  “I’ll try to communicate with the spirit. It sounds very angry, and we need to find out why.”

  “Okay.”

  “Apparently, the time of day doesn’t make a difference since your experiences haven’t happened during a specific time of day, which means this spirit has great power.”

  “So you’re sure it’s a ghost and not the house itself?” It sounded like a stupid question, but I knew next to nothing about the paranormal world.

  “Yes. Possessed houses are extremely rare. In those cases, you don’t see a shape or a blue light. A spirit lingers in that house, and it’s trying to tell you something though it’s doing it poorly.”