Caitlyn stopped scant inches away. She reached out to touch her and Peyton closed her eyes, afraid to look. When she opened them, the girl was gone.
But Peyton's mother was there.
"Peyton..."
"Mom...I didn't hear you come up." Peyton exhaled breath that she had seemingly been holding forever in anticipating Caitlyn's touch.
Melody's brow creased. "You shouldn't be up here, Peyton. It'll just result in more problems."
"I'm fine," she lied, shifting her eyes, hoping to spot Caitlyn.
"Are you?" Her mother's voice rang with doubt.
"Yeah. I only came up to see if there was anything I might be able to use." Peyton lifted the doll. "Look what I found. It belonged to a girl named Caitlyn."
Melody looked at the doll and tag, then her daughter. "This doesn't mean it's the same girl who's in the picture."
"So you think I just conjured up the name?" Peyton didn't dare tell her that she had seen Caitlyn's ghost just moments earlier. Or that she was sure it was Caitlyn who made the box fall so Peyton could find the doll.
"Maybe you saw it somewhere in the house and don't remember."
"I think I would've remembered that." Peyton batted her lashes with irritation. "Either way, Caitlyn is the girl in the photo, I'm sure of it."
Melody sighed. "So maybe her name is Caitlyn," she said. "I don't want you to get too caught up in who she is or was. All it will do is cause you to have more bad dreams. Nothing good can come from that."
"But what if they weren't dreams? What if it was a window into something truly bad that happened in this house?"
"Then you must close it! There's nothing you can do to alter the past--no matter how much you want to believe there's some sort of hidden message in whatever you're experiencing."
"What if it's not about the past, but the future?" Peyton suggested. "Our future as a family living in this house..."
Melody narrowed her eyes. "Listen to me, I want you to stay away from this attic and remove any thoughts that there's something supernatural going on here."
"How can you be so sure there isn't?" You wouldn't be if you'd seen the things I did.
"This is serious, Peyton. Vance already thinks you're teetering on the edge of insanity. Let's not give him any more ammunition, please."
Peyton's nostrils flared. "Why does everything always have to be about what Vance thinks? He's like not even my real father, even if he tries to pretend he is."
"But he is my husband, Peyton!" Melody's voice rose. "And you're my daughter. We have to try to make it work, even if there are bumps in the road. And that means not rocking the boat by this talk of communicating with spirits or whatever and otherwise allowing your imagination to run wild."
Peyton hugged her mother impulsively. "I'm sorry." She just wished things would go back to the way they were--before they moved to Shadow Bay. Except for meeting Bryant and Lily.
"Don't be." Melody kissed her forehead. "Let's just try to put this behind us and move forward."
"Fine."
If only it were that simple. Peyton had a feeling it would be anything but simple.
When she pulled away, Melody wrapped her arms around herself. "It's feeling a bit chilly up here all of a sudden," she said. "Why don't we go downstairs and you can help me put away the groceries?"
"Okay." Peyton wondered if there was more to the chill than her mother realized. She glanced about, as if expecting Caitlyn to rematerialize. But it didn't happen.
She put the doll back in the box and slipped the photograph of Caitlyn and another girl in her pocket while her mother's head was turned. Peyton believed Caitlyn was appearing for some important reason that she clearly wanted her to figure out, no matter how weird and unsettling it seemed.
The words Caitlyn had written on the wall replayed in her head: "You must help me before it's too late for all of us--"
By "all of us," did Caitlyn mean Peyton's family was also in danger?
I'm not sure how to fight this or where to turn.
What could she possibly do to help a troubled ghost who had likely been shot by her own father years ago? Especially when Peyton's mother and stepfather were steadfastly opposed to any suggestion that spirits haunted the house.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Hi, stranger," Bryant said when Peyton opened the front door that afternoon to him and Hugh.
"Hey, Bry." He was a welcome sight and she fondly recalled their kisses last week. "Hello, Hugh!" Peyton scratched the dog's head.
"What's up?"
"Oh, not much," she said, stepping onto the porch. Not sure it's a smart idea to talk about ghosts and a haunted house with him right now. "What's up with you?"
"Busy with work mostly, and helping my dad."
I wish my real dad was still around for me to help and be there for me, too.
"What else?" Peyton found that anything Bryant had to say interested her. And it kept her mind off less pleasant things.
"Let's see...oh, I took Hugh to the vet for his annual."
"Is he okay?" Hugh certainly looked healthy to her.
"As good as a dog can be when he's past his prime, but still ornery as ever."
Peyton laughed. "Sounds like some people I know."
"Yeah, same here." Bryant paused. "Anyway, I was hoping we could check out a movie tomorrow night--"
"Great!" The idea of being with him in a dark movie theater excited Peyton. "What time?"
"The last showing's at eight-thirty."
"That's fine with me."
"Cool." Bryant gazed at her. "Your stepfather won't have a problem with it, will he?"
Peyton thought about it and his keeping her cell phone as if it was his own private property. "I don't see why he would," she said evenly. "He wants me to have friends here and it's not like we're doing anything wrong by hanging out together." Not that this had stopped Vance from being overly controlling lately.
Bryant rubbed Hugh's head. "Sometimes parents think whatever their kids do is wrong, especially when they aren't around to keep an eye on them every second of the day."
"That's a scary thought," Peyton joked, but took it seriously enough. She couldn't imagine having to deal with Vance looking over her shoulder 24/7.
"Oh, by the way, I told one of my friends about Lily," Bryant said casually.
Peyton's eyes widened. "And...?"
"He wants to meet her."
"Really?"
"Yeah. His name's Kirk. I told him I'd get her phone number from you."
"I'll get it," she promised enthusiastically, while hoping she didn't have to get into it right now with him about her own cell phone issues.
"Good. Well, I've gotta run."
Do you really have to? "Okay."
He leaned forward and kissed her lips. "See you tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it." Peyton beamed, happy that he'd kissed her. "See you later, Hugh."
The dog barked and licked her hand.
After they left, Peyton savored the kiss and what seemed to be a growing relationship between them, before turning her attention to the ghost girl named Caitlyn. She pulled the photo of Caitlyn and another girl from her pocket. She had to find out more about Caitlyn and what actually happened to her. Peyton remembered Lily saying that her grandmother had lived in the same house all her life. Maybe she knew this family.
At worst, perhaps she can tell me what she knows about ghosts.
And if it was really possible for one or more ghosts to occupy a house and possibly possess dreams...
* * *
Caitlyn watched from the window as Peyton talked to the caretaker's son and played with his dog. If only she were able to have fun again and attract boys. But that wasn't to be. At least not as things stood at the moment.
For now, Caitlyn was far more interested in breaking free of her father's chains that had bound her far too long. She hoped that would all change soon. With Peyton, she could make it happen, as this was as much her destiny as it was Caitly
n's.
Looking up, Caitlyn saw her mother standing there. She was still the most beautiful woman Caitlyn had ever seen. She wished she had stayed alive to grow up to be like her mother.
Her mother smiled and nodded at Caitlyn. She understood and followed her.
They found Melody in the master bedroom reading a magazine. She could not see them, but she must have felt their presence, for Peyton's mother looked up momentarily, before returning to the pages.
Caitlyn watched with awe as her mother entered Melody's body almost as naturally as entering the room. Almost immediately, Melody went for her cigarettes, lighting one, as Caitlyn's mother had loved to do. She gazed at Caitlyn, smiled generously, and blew a plume of smoke into the air.
"It's so good to be alive," Melody uttered happily.
Caitlyn agreed, but knew it would be short-lived.
* * *
Peyton knocked on the front door of the Victorian house that looked very much like her house.
It opened and Peyton saw a short, white-haired woman standing there.
"Hi. Is Lily around?"
The woman peered at her behind gold-rimmed glasses. "She went to the drugstore to get my prescription. She'll be back in a few minutes."
For an instant, Peyton froze. She had counted on Lily's presence to help get her through the discomfort of talking to a stranger about ghosts, of all things. Maybe she should come back later.
"You must be Peyton?"
Peyton nodded. "Yes. I'm guessing you're Lily's grandmother?"
"That's right" Her face crinkled when she smiled. "Looks like Lily has been talking to us about each other."
Peyton wasn't sure if that made her feel better or not. She hoped Lily's grandmother didn't think she was just a little bit off her rocker.
"I'm Frances Kramer," she introduced herself. "Would you like to come in and wait for Lily? I could use the company."
"That would be great," Peyton responded almost too eagerly.
"I was just about to pour myself a tall glass of lemonade," Frances said near the kitchen. "Can I get you one, Peyton?"
"Yes, thanks." She was only too happy to accept the hospitality. Quenching her thirst would be a bonus.
A few moments later they were sitting in the parlor.
"I understand that you and your parents are living in the old St. Claire house," Frances stated.
Peyton raised a brow. "Yeah, I guess."
Lily's grandmother chuckled. "Of course, there have been a few other families living there since they departed."
"Lily told me that you've lived here all your life," noted Peyton.
"Pretty much, not counting the year my late husband and I spent overseas--living in England, France, and the Netherlands. It was interesting, but no place can compare to Shadow Bay."
Peyton was inclined to agree, but not necessarily for the same reasons. She wondered if Lily had told her grandmother about the ghost.
Does she really believe in such things as ghosts and haunted houses?
"So how have things been for you in the new house, Peyton?" Frances looked at her curiously.
Peyton sipped her lemonade thoughtfully. "Well, my mother and stepfather love living there," she said. "I'm trying my best to adjust...except that, uh--"
Lily's grandmother lowered her glasses a notch. "You've seen one or more ghosts...?"
Peyton flushed. "Did Lily--?"
"She didn't have to. Through the years, others have complained about the same thing ever since...it happened--"
"What...?"
Frances hesitated, as though a lump were caught in her throat.
Peyton decided now was the time to say what was on her mind. "I've been having dreams about a man shooting another man, his daughter Caitlyn, and his wife--in the room that's now my parents' bedroom. And I've seen Caitlyn several times when I'm awake. But everyone seems to think I'm just imagining it, lying, or just plain crazy."
"Oh, dear." Frances closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she looked Peyton in the eye. "Caitlyn St. Claire was my best friend. Our families moved to Shadow Bay within a month of each other many years ago. We quickly bonded and, for a while there, we were almost inseparable. Then tragedy struck..."
Peyton watched as Frances trembled while touching her glasses. She waited with anticipation, barely believing that this elderly woman was best friends with Caitlyn, a girl who was about Peyton's age.
Frances clasped her hands. "Caitlyn's mother, Rebecca, was absolutely gorgeous. Everyone knew that. She was also the world's biggest flirt--or at least Shadow Bay's. This didn't go especially well with her husband, Byron St. Claire. A businessman, Byron was often away from home. But that didn't stop him from being quite jealous and possessive where it concerned his wife. When Rebecca got involved with their caretaker, Trevor Newbury, Byron was apparently the last one to know. He caught them together one night and...snapped." She sighed. "Byron killed them all...including Caitlyn, before taking his own life--"
Peyton shuddered at the thought. So it really did happen! But that still doesn't tell me why I've been forced to witness such a horrific thing over and over, as though I'm involved in their tragedy.
She pulled out the photograph of Caitlyn and the other girl. After looking at it, Peyton gazed at Lily's grandmother, looking for some resemblance. She thought there might be something in her expression, but couldn't be sure.
Peyton handed her the photograph. "Is that you with Caitlyn?"
Frances studied it and looked at Peyton. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it in the attic, along with a doll that belonged to Caitlyn."
"I see." Lily's grandmother stared at the photograph again. "Yes, it's me. My father took it in this very room more than fifty years ago. Caitlyn was sixteen and I was one month shy of that. Shortly after that, Caitlyn was dead."
"You can have it if you want," offered Peyton, feeling sorry for the loss of her close friend, though so much time had passed since then.
"No, you keep it," she insisted. "I think Caitlyn wanted you to have it for some reason."
"But why? What could she possibly want with me? I just can't figure that out."
Frances mused. "I'm not sure. Maybe Caitlyn thinks that because you're her age, you can be her friend like I used to be. Spirits who die unnaturally sometimes find it difficult to move on to the next world. With the awful things that happened in that house, I'm not surprised at all that it's the source of restless souls haunting whoever occupies the space that was once theirs."
Peyton sucked in a breath, trying to understand this. As if it could ever be that simple.
"Has Caitlyn ever appeared to you?"
Frances swallowed contemplatively. "No, she hasn't. And I'm not sure I'd want her to. Our memories are too special to want to risk being marred by supernatural forces that Caitlyn may have no more control over than I would."
"But you must have sensed her presence in the house at some point over the years."
"After the horrific crime, my parents didn't let me near that house, as if it were forever cursed," explained Frances. "To this day, almost fifty years later, I've avoided it like the plague, though I'm not sure why. I know Caitlyn would never hurt me. Not like her father hurt her. Perhaps the memories of that fateful day...the tragedy suffered by my dear friend, are just still too strong."
Peyton could relate to that. She could only imagine how freaked she would be if Erica was a victim of foul play, especially if she was killed by her own father.
Frances took off her glasses. "My advice to you, Peyton, is not to shut Caitlyn out if she appears to you again. Could be the warmth you resonate is just what she needs to let go of whatever it is that's keeping her there."
"And the dreams about the shootings?" Peyton asked tensely. "How can I get them to stop without losing my grip on reality or staying awake 24/7?"
"I think the dreams are a manifestation of the darkness that's hung over that house for so long," Frances said. "For some reason,
you've been able to tap in more deeply than others. My guess is that once Caitlyn's at peace, these dreams will cease. When that will happen, I can't say. But I will pray for you, Peyton, as I have for Caitlyn's soul all these years."
"Thank you."
Peyton was glad that at least someone in Shadow Bay understood what she was going through. I'm not really alone in this bizarre situation anymore.
Frances smiled. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Peyton. I'm only sorry you're being put through something you don't deserve."
"I don't think Caitlyn deserved what happened to her either," Peyton said, saddened by the violent way her childhood had ended so abruptly.
"No, she didn't," Frances agreed.
They heard the front door open and slam shut.
"Where are you, Nana?" Lily bellowed.
"We're in here," her grandmother said, winking at Peyton.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Your grandmother's really cool," Peyton told Lily as they sat on her bed.
"Yeah, she is," Lily agreed, crossing her legs. "She even lets me do my room--it used to be hers when she was a girl--any way I want to while I'm here."
Peyton glanced about the bedroom. She found herself imagining Caitlyn being in there many years ago. Peyton was still trying to come to grips with what Lily's grandmother had told her. It seemed to fit right in with what was happening to her. Only Peyton still hadn't figured out how to put a stop to it.
Lily seemed to sense that she was preoccupied. "So did you tell Nana about the girl ghost?"
"Yeah, we talked about it, and more," Peyton said.
Lily grinned. "See, I told you Nana could relate to the spirit world in ways beyond most of us mere teenaged mortals."
"She does understand a lot more than I thought possible."
"Like what?"
Peyton revealed that her grandmother not only believed ghosts exist, but that she knew this ghost personally. At least when Caitlyn was alive.
Lily's eyes widened. "You're kidding--Nana and your ghost girl were best friends?"
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