Possessed by a Stranger

by Jeny Stone

  “Thank you, that’s a good idea.” He forced a smile. Ted had already questioned her drivers to no avail.

  “I miss that girl. She was quiet. I’ll give her your card when she stops by next week. I can’t promise she’ll call you. She’s funny about people knowing her business.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the trouble to do me a favor.” Not asking questions sometimes was the best method to receive answers. Damn, Hannah had slipped away again. Ted would station someone in front of this building to catch Hannah when she returned. Waiting another week to alleviate the excruciating tension from his lack of sex was going to cost her. This time he might have her brought to him. That should thoroughly piss her off and teach her not to run. After all, he wasn’t done with her yet.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In a large patch of her overgrown backyard, Hannah had stumbled upon rambling strawberry plants. She had seen a furry little critter hopping around for several days. She unsuccessfully tried to coax the bunny closer with fresh vegetables. The little scamp teased her, nibbling the carrot she used as bait before he hopped out of reach. He seemed to know exactly how close to get and still be just out of reach. Now, while she picked strawberries, he playfully stayed around her feet. As soon as he got a whiff of one of his bunny harem, he would desert her feet for a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. He was a prolific little bugger. She knew his offspring would wreak havoc on the garden she had planned on for next year, but she still enjoyed his company. Her pet rabbit appeared every time she went outside, after she accepted his freedom wasn’t up for grabs or in this case, up for petting. He was a fluffy example of the peace and tranquility of her new life. Fittingly, she named him Garret.

  Hannah filled her wicker basket with strawberries as a peace offering to the elusive Presley family. She most definitely would wash them, not sure, what her bunny might have deposited in or around the patch. She was slightly apprehensive over her visit to the estate. On the other hand, she was excited to see the mansion featured in various magazines. The Presley’s had pristinely maintained the estate keeping its historical value intact.

  Hannah relaxed, soaking in the tranquilly of the two mile stroll to the expansive estate. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the bricked driveway. Some of the bricks were replaced with the newer bricks standing out like a sore thumb. With all their money, they should have searched for suitable older replacements.

  The rooftops of the mansion were her only previous glimpse of the late eighteen hundreds home that now rose up before her. It was maintained with expert care in its original design. She hoped the inside, if she got that far, still had the artistic woodwork of the artisan that painstakingly built the historical structure.

  Awe struck, Hannah stood in front of the oversized double doors. She held back the urge to use the original doorknockers, ringing the doorbell instead. Of course, she had run her fingers over the lion head that held the large round knocker. When she touched a piece of history, she imagined herself drawn back in time. Not that she wanted to live during that period; she only wanted to visit as an observer. The scratchy confining undergarments alone were enough to keep her planted in the modern world. The reality of outhouses, the lack of personal hygiene, archaic medical facilities, and the all-around hard life compared to today, kept her grounded to modern conveniences. Her education took the romantic aspects out of any notion of living in the past. Romance novels depicting the eighteenth century leave out the horrific smells of raw sewage and body odor.

  The door opening startled Hannah out of her daydream. A lovely older woman impeccably dressed in a stylish pantsuit smiled widely. “Hello, I’m Hannah Greer and I’m restoring the Abernathy cottage.” She introduced herself.

  The woman with translucent white hair stood back to allow Hannah to enter. “Come in. We had heard you look just like Louise and you do. We actually met you at your grandmother’s funeral. How many years has that been? You were about six or seven years old if I remember correctly.”

  The hospitable greeting wasn’t what Hannah had expected. Mrs. Presley seemed genuinely thrilled to see her. “I was six. I didn’t realize you had kept in touch with my family after they moved to the city.”

  Mrs. Presley led the way to an adjoining room off the foyer. “Come in here and have a seat.” She accepted the basket of strawberries Hannah almost forgot she brought.

  The tall ceilings crowned with handcrafted molding, the spiraling double staircase, the original hardwood floors and the wainscoting encasing the walls had her enthralled. She felt like she entered a history book.

  “This house is gorgeous. You’ve done a wonderful job modernizing it without taking away from the historical features. That’s what I’m trying to do with the cottage but I’ve ran into some difficulties with the contractors.” Her words gushed out of mouth. She wanted to touch and inspect the whole mansion.

  “I know. You’re the talk of the town. Everyone I know from town has called snooping for information. They want to know why you’re sinking so much money in that old cottage. These town folks think newer is better. They don’t appreciate the craftsmanship.”

  Finally, someone that understood. “You’ll have to come and see what I’ve done with the cottage. I should have introduced myself sooner but I was afraid to leave for a second. They might have knocked down a wall while I was gone. I’ve heard our families had a long history going back generations.”

  “Oh yes, the Louise and Grant affair. I’ve heard all about that. My father-in-law, Pops and Abbey grew up together. They stayed friends even after they both got married and Abbey moved away. Pops insisted on going to her funeral. I would say it was ancient history but Pops won’t let it go. Wait until he sees you.”

  Hannah’s heart leaped into her throat. “He’s still alive. May I talk to him?” That sounded tacky; of course he’s alive if he could still see her. Hannah cringed at her blunder.

  Mrs. Presley giggled. “Oh yes. I know it’s hard to believe. He’s ninety-two and remembers the past better than what happened a minute before. He bears his Uncle Grant’s name. I’m warning you, he loves to talk about the fortune. Of course, you realize that is folklore. Although, you won’t convince him it’s not real.”

  “My grandmother was the same way. At age six, she had me convinced there was a hidden treasure. After I learned about that period in history, I knew it was an improbability. Although, I discovered Louise’s paintings were real. In today’s art market, they may be the real treasure.”

  The women conversed for a good half an hour about the local gossip. Mrs. Presley praised her for having the good sense to hire local contractors. Apparently, in this small community, friendship could be bought. Hannah was finally escorted upstairs to meet the only living person she knew, that had known her great grandmother. Mrs. Presley went into the bedroom first to alert her father-in-law about his visitor. Hannah’s close resemblance to Louise presented a concern.

  The elder Mr. Presley’s male nurse invited Hannah in the room. The hospital bed in the center of room was raised to a half sitting position. The frail man’s previous large stature was evident. His once strong bone structure was covered with thin wrinkled skin. A smile brightened his aged features below a head full of tufted gray hair. His gleaming eyes held tight to the life his body had deserted.

  “Come over here where I can get a better look at you. Louise, you’re as beautiful as I remember.” His voice quivered with age.

  Hannah walked to the side of his bed, taking his weathered hand in hers. “Mr. Presley, I’m Hannah, Abbey’s granddaughter.”

  He reached his other hand over, to pat the top on her hand. “I know, honey. My sweet Abbey, I should have married her when I had the chance. We made a pact to find the fortune and run off together. We were in our teens then. Broke my heart when she married someone else. She was eighteen and I was sixteen at the time. I’m so glad you came to see me. Where do you live now?”

  “I’ve moved into the family cottage.”

  “Wel
l good, now you can come see me more often. Abbey would be so proud of you. She always said you were the link to her past. You look exactly like Louise.”

  “Do you remember Louise?”

  “Once you saw Louise, you didn’t forget her. She was a beauty just like you. Strong willed with a free spirit. I stayed down at the cottage most of the time growing up. It was fun there. That house was full of love and you always felt welcomed. We would question her about the gold, plotting ways to extract the information from her tight lips and she always laughed. She would say, ‘Fill your heart with love and you will find the treasure’. Abbey would get furious. She had quite a temper at times. As far as I know, Louise never told a living soul where to find the treasure, not even her husband.”

  Mrs. Presley excused herself leaving Hannah and the nurse with her father-in-law. Hannah stayed for several hours, listening to tales of his and her Grammy’s childhood adventures. Pops, as he insisted she call him, was as sharp as a tack.

  She soaked in his memories of her family, finally getting a feel of her ancestry. His recollections of her ancestors reinforced her decision to move to her family home. Her cottage was where she belonged. She would have been loved there. With Pops tiring, she promised to return after inventing an excuse to leave. She thanked Mrs. Presley for allowing her the opportunity to speak with him. Mrs. Presley graciously invited her back, any time.

  Hannah, walked back to her cottage, lost in new memories of her childhood bedtime story. The muscle-tightening scare of almost being clipped by a speeding car rounding a blind curve snapped her back to reality. She clutched her chest to stop her thumping heart from breaking free of the confines of her rib cage.

  The car that skidded to a stop squealed its tires, now going in reverse. She stepped closer to the hedges since the backwards moving car was aimed straight at her. The sports car, with a maniac at the wheel, stopped inches from slamming her into the hedges. The top of the line, red metallic BMW, X-six-M compensated for some mid-life crisis. Whether it was a limp dick or balding head, that idiot was about to have his sagging balls handed to him.

  Hannah, shook with rage. She clenched her fists, placing them firmly on her waist, prepared to blast the reckless driver. The car door opened. Mr. Garret stepped out of the car. Her sharp intake of air was the only thing she had time to do. Without any time to react, Hannah found herself slammed against the car with the wind knocked out of her. She was flattened on the back of the car with him crushing the full extent of his weight down on top of her. Her arms stretched above her head with his hands digging into her forearms. His furious face was a breath away from hers. Her stomach twisted with fear. A dizzy haze clouded her vision as she felt the blood draining from her head.

  “What in the hell are you doing at my house?” Garrets blood boiled with his overprotective nature on high alert. No wonder, his resources hadn’t located her. She was stalking his family. She was just like all the others, setting her trap to try and win his heart and all that followed with the name of Presley. Now, that her motive was evident, she would pay.

  Panic had a firm grip on Hannah. She was forcibly trapped under his weight and fury. “Let go of me. You’re hurting my arms.” She pleaded, unsuccessfully fighting back tears.

  He squeezed harder on her arms. “What are you doing at my home?” He demanded furiously.

  Her voice scraped her throat with barely enough air in her lungs to force a whisper. “Your house? This is the Presley estate.”

  He saw the terror on her face but he couldn’t stop with his family involved. Damn, she had crossed the line. “You know I’m a Presley, so cut the bull. My family is off limits to everyone.”

  Wait a frigging minute; she was being assaulted because he misled her about his identity. Her heated rage boiled from her gut bubbling up through every tightened muscle. She strained to lift her body off the car with rage feeding her strength.

  “I most certainly did not. And how would I know that Mr. Garret. I don’t remember you correcting your name.” She stopped her futile attempt to escape. He seemed to enjoy her struggling.

  The fire in her eyes sparked of the truth. “You’re a smart lady. I think you were pissed enough to find out everything you could about me.”

  His crushing weight eased. Justified by his ignorance she lashed out with the truth. “You are the one that lied about your name. Are you so full of yourself, that you thought I went to the trouble of finding out who you really are? Why would I do that when I thought you were P. Garret? Although I did Google Prick Garret and was surprised your picture didn’t pop up.” He loosened his grip. His lips formed a wicked grin on his face laced with curiosity.

  “Then why are you here?” The storm of his anger waned, faced with the veracity of her questions.

  “I’m restoring the Abernathy cottage, not that it’s any of your business. Let go of me.” Her temper rose as his subsided. She was still trapped under his overpowering body. If he leaned any closer, she plotted to sink her teeth into his lip since she couldn’t rip his face off with her fingernails. Although, if biting his lip freed her, his face was next in line to feel her anger along with a good kick in his balls.

  “You’re coming from my house. What were you doing there?” His eyes remained poignant but his raging tone became less terrifying.

  The disguise of her professional calm returned. When all else failed she reverted to what normally worked. “Meeting the neighbors. I talked with your grandfather. He’s a treasure trove of information about the Abernathy family.” The mention of his grandfather changed his manner. He stiffened to an upright position, setting her free. She jerked herself upright going into attack mode but he was already at his car door.

  He slammed the door as he warned her. “I’ll deal with you later. Stay away from my family or I’ll get a restraining order if I have too.” Fucking hell, why had she turned out to be a stalker? He wasted resources, money and time trying to find that sweet piece of ass, all for nothing. As soon as he checked on his grandfather, he would be on the phone ruining her company. The fun and games ended with Hannah Greer. Let her discover how hard it was to stalk when she was flat broke.

  Garret peeled away from where she stood trembling. Relief flooded over her, pooling in her tremulous legs. The withheld tears escaped flooding her cheeks. This situation was the first time she had felt helplessly in fear for her safety. It was a warning she intended to heed. She crossed her arms in front of her stomach, rubbing back the blood circulation.

  His dangerous air wasn’t as attractive when directed toward her. Garret Presley wasn’t the man she thought he was. She didn’t deserve nor would she tolerate that kind of treatment from anyone. Her cat and mouse game with Grant Presley ended now. Distance was her only safe recourse when dealing with him. Why had he turned out to be such an ass?

  After witnessing his temper, she thought it best to stop her latest game with Garret Presley. But really, he started this game. On the same auction site where she bought Louise’s last painting a bidder known as wolfman had doubled her bid on an item. She suspected it was P. Garret at the time and it was his way of retaliating over the painting. Testing her theory she placed an item up for auction, something she normally wouldn’t do. She had her own website to sell items. She just bought things from other auction sites. On this particular site the seller could set a base price by placing the first bid, which she did at double the items value. She knew any experienced antique dealer would scoff at the price. Low and behold, wolfman doubled the bid. Gotch ya! Of course, he won the bid, along with five others she placed on sale. Now, seemed as a good a time as any, to stop her amusing game, while he was still unaware … or not.

  That arrogant ass thought she was a stalker and he deserved to be taught a lesson. Since money was his bitch maybe he needed another bitch to relieve him of the burden of his first bitch. God, was she feeling bitchy. His uncalled for assault would cost him a pretty penny before she was through with him. Hannah hurried to the safety of her cottage
, stewing over his repulsive actions. She would keep a safe distance while retaliating online.

  Garret parked in front of the house not taking the time to open the garage. He vaulted up the stairs two at a time. His mother must have heard his car and met in in the foyer as he opened the door.

  “What was that woman doing here?” He demanded before his mother could speak. She immediately wore her watch-your-tone face.

  “Well, hello to you too. Oh, you mean Hannah Greer. She’s restoring the cottage at the end of the lane. Pop’s talked to her for hours today. She perked him right up. You might want to go see him now, before he goes to sleep. He’s probably worn out.”

  “Was she alone with him?” He was the only one in this family that cared about his grandfather’s safety. His own mother allowed a stalker into his home. Shit, now faced with his mother’s disapproving glare he realized he should have lowered his voice. His mother stood in her lecture stance with her accusing finger pointed at him.

  “What is wrong with you? You act like she’s some kind of criminal. I know I told you about her moving back into the cottage. You or your father never listen to anything I say. You both pretend to listen and this just proves I have important things to say. She’s the last of the Abernathy’s. She looks just like her great grandmother and I think Pops thought she was Louise. I’ve told you both he’s losing his mind.” She stormed into the sitting room.

  Hannah hadn’t said restoring her cottage just the Abernathy cottage. That detail should have been the first thing out of her mouth. Garret bounded upstairs to check on his grandfather. He would apologize to his mother later. The last of the Abernathy’s explained a lot, the paintings, the cottage and, damn it, her reason to talk to his grandfather.

  Garret opened his grandfather’s bedroom door. The nurse left, as usual, to give them some privacy. His grandfather smiled as soon as he saw him. He regretted not taking time to come sooner. His grandfather’s physical regression had escalated dramatically.