house to find Elizabeth drunk and crying on the couch. A friend of mine who worked on the force at the time said that she just kept saying over and over again, 'I just wanted her to stop crying.'
“They discovered the child in an upstairs bedroom, laid out on a mattress with a pillow still covering her face. My friend said that he was not only horrified by the act, but also by the living conditions of the poor girl. The place was a mess, the child's room had only a mattress on the floor, and none of the toys or dolls that you'd expect to find in a little girl’s room. The saddest thing of all is that the poor girl died just two days before her fifth birthday.
“Elizabeth was arrested and taken in for questioning. There she confessed the whole story about how she blamed the child for so much and finally, when she couldn't stop her from crying, she smothered the child with a pillow.
“Elizabeth never stood trial,” Robert added.
“Why?” Charlotte asked appalled.
“Supposedly following in her father's footsteps again, she killed herself in prison while awaiting her trial.”
Charlotte felt very little sympathy for Elizabeth but there was still one question she had to ask. “You wouldn't by chance know the name of Elizabeth's daughter?”
“I do, but only because I have a daughter with the same name. Her name was Samantha.”
Charlotte realized that she must have paled with that response because the next thing she knew Robert had a comforting hand on hers and he was again asking if she was okay.
“I'm okay, it's just such a sad and shocking story.”
“It is,” Robert said with a sigh. “Other than that there isn't much to tell you about that house. It remained vacant for about two years after Elizabeth's death, and then it was sold to a couple by the name of Carlson. The Carlsons never had children and the place was put up for sale when they were moved into a seniors’ home. I presume that is when you took possession.”
Charlotte didn't hear much after learning that the child's name was Samantha. There is absolutely no logical way that her four-year-old daughter could have so much information on a girl who died over sixty years ago. It was difficult to wrap her mind around this whole thing but Charlotte decided that it was time for her to think outside of her rational mind.
All of her life she had heard ghost stories. Some were presented as fiction, but others had been told by people who adamantly believed them to be true. She had always found these tales to be entertaining but never thought that one day she too might believe in ghosts. If they were dealing with a ghost, then the question to ask now was, what should she do about it?
“I hope that answers your questions,” Robert said interrupting Charlotte's reflections. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Would the library still have any of the newspapers from that era?” she asked.
“I spent many a day in this library going through old newspapers while doing research for our book on the history of Milton. With all of today’s conveniences you can now find them on microfiche. If you’d like I can show where to find the information.”
“Thank you Robert, you have been such a help, but I really don't want to take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have better things to do.”
“Charlotte, I'm an old man volunteering at the library to help fill my days. I have nothing but time. And if I can use some of that time to help out a pretty lady, then I'm honoured to do it.”
“Do you hit on all the ladies like this?” Charlotte laughed.
“If they give me the opportunity, then most definitely.”
Robert took Charlotte over to the area where the microfiche were kept and showed her how the machine worked, as well as how to find the exact dates that she was looking for. He then left her to browse through the old periodicals at her leisure.
“You'll have to come for dinner once we’ve settled in,” Charlotte said, as Robert headed back to his volunteer duties.
“It's a date then!” he exclaimed with a smile.
For nearly an hour, Charlotte read through articles about the events that had occurred around, what she too, now thought of as the McDougall Estate. Robert had been very thorough in his description of the events surrounding Samantha's death. The only difference was that the newspaper articles gave more in-depth details to depict the harsh childhood that Samantha had lived before her young life had been cut short.
While skimming the articles and photographs, Charlotte gasped with shock. Her body shuddered to find, that looking back at her from the screen of the microfiche machine, was the little girl she had seen earlier that morning. Then she hadn’t been dreaming! And Becky’s imaginary friend wasn’t looking so imaginary anymore.
At first glance her picture may have looked like that of any four-year-old girl but as Charlotte looked closer she saw the anguish in the little girl's eyes. Samantha's hair was disheveled and held none of the bright ribbons or ponytails that one might expect to find on a child of that age. When she felt warm tears flow down her cheeks, Charlotte knew that she had seen and heard enough for now.
After she left the library, Charlotte walked solemnly to her car, sat behind the wheel, and abandoned all attempts to hold back the tears. The horrors she had heard of today made her long for the comfort of her daughter’s presence. She was anxious to hold Becky in her arms and give her the biggest hug ever. Once she gained control of her emotions, Charlotte started her car and directed it towards her parents’ place to pick up Becky.
During the drive Charlotte contemplated their situation. She had seen all of the horror movies about exorcisms but she wondered if under these circumstances she needed to go that far. After all, their ghost Samantha hadn't caused any real problems. Minor annoyances yes, but nothing that she would have considered to be a danger to either herself or Becky. Besides, she still couldn't help but feel sorry for Samantha, and the terrible childhood she had endured.
“That's it!”Charlotte exclaimed to herself. “Maybe Samantha has reappeared because through Becky she is able to experience some of the childhood she had lost.”
“If that's what she wants then that's what we'll give her,” Charlotte said, as she pulled into her parents’ driveway.
Becky was playing on the special ‘Tired Old Horse’ swing that her grandfather had hung from an oak tree in their front yard. When she saw her mother’s car pulling into the driveway, she jumped from the swing and ran across the yard hollering, “Mommy, Mommy!”
Charlotte jumped out of the car, swept her daughter into her arms and gave her a big hug. “I love you, Honey.”
“I love you too Mommy, but you’re squishing me,” Becky giggled.
“Are you ready to go home?”
“You bet, I've already said bye to Grandma and Granddad.”
“What do you say we stop and buy Samantha a new doll on the way home?”
“You mean it Mommy? She'd love that! Can I pick one out for her, please Mommy?” Becky asked excitedly.
“Of course, she's your friend. You’d know best what she'd like.”
Charlotte was a little surprised that Becky didn't question her new found belief in Samantha. But then again she was pretty excited about the concept of finding a new doll for her friend. Charlotte thought it best that Becky didn't ask too many questions. How could she possibly relate to her vulnerable four-year-old the horrible details of Samantha's life?
They stopped at a toy store on the way home and Becky excitedly ran from aisle to aisle looking for the best doll. She finally picked out one with long blonde hair held into ponytails by bright red ribbons.
“It looks just like Samantha, Mommy. Can we get this one?”
“Of course, Honey,” Charlotte said, realizing that the doll did indeed look like the photo she had seen of Samantha. The doll however lacked the dull absent look in the eyes.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Becky was fast asleep with her head propped against the passenger side door. A long d
ay of playing at her grandparents’ had obviously worn her daughter out. Charlotte was also exhausted and she looked forward to getting into her own bed, but there were things she wanted to do first.
She scooped her sleeping daughter out of the passenger seat and carried her into the house. Becky instinctively wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and snuggled in for warmth. Charlotte took Becky straight up the stairs and into her room, but not before ensuring that there were no more surprise boxes or other traps waiting for her.
Becky resisted waking and kept her eyes closed as Charlotte helped her to slip out of her clothes and into her pajamas. With her doll placed safely under her arm, Charlotte thought Becky was asleep before Charlotte finished tucking her in.
“See you later, Alligator,” Becky called out, as Charlotte was about to leave the room.
“In a while, Crocodile. I love you, Becky.”
“I love you too, Mommy,” Becky responded in a softly fading voice.
The new doll was still in the backseat, so Charlotte made a quick trip out to the car. She unpacked the doll and returned to Becky's room.
As she stepped back into Becky's room Charlotte felt the familiar chill. She now associated both the chill in the room and the chill that ran down her spine, with Samantha's presence. At least that's what she was hoping for as she said, “Samantha, I'm sorry for what happened to you. But I want you to know that I'm not like your Mommy. I would never hurt
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