John arrived home twenty minutes later. As he came through the front door, he took Andrea in his arms. In a loving embrace, he kissed her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so short with you on the phone earlier.” He held her close for a few moments before heading upstairs to change clothes.
Andrea had dinner ready when he came back down to the kitchen. “I landed a big account today,” he bragged as he dug in. “Isn’t it great? I’ve only had the office open for a few days, and already I have one of the largest accounts in the area.”
“Yes, it’s very good. I’m happy for you.” Then she paused a moment. “John, I have something to talk to you about. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s very important.”
“Okay, but first let me tell you how this all came about today. This guy called and…”
Andrea interrupted. “All right, John, please. I really need to talk to you. Let me clear the dishes while you relax in the living room. As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll be right in.”
Chapter Six
Andrea knew what a skeptic John could be when it came to anything out of the ordinary, especially something like what she was about to tell him. He would insist on looking for a logical explanation. She felt nervous as she walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa.
John sat in his recliner across from her. She clasped her hands together in her lap. “John, you know that photograph I found in the attic?” He nodded. “There have been some strange things going on around here ever since.” She continued, telling him about the overwhelming sadness she’d felt when she held the photograph and the crying early in the morning. “Even Peg thought she heard someone crying.”
As she recounted her conversations with Emily Peters and Marie Holden, a deep frown appeared on his face. “I went to the old cemetery and found Anna’s grave,” she went on. This brought him to an upright position. “And now, John, the photograph keeps moving around on its own. I don’t know what to do about all of this.” She began to cry.
John rose and hurried over to her. Sitting next to her, he put his arm around her. “Take it easy, babe,” he said in a soft voice.
Before he could say another word, the front door suddenly slammed shut. John jumped to his feet. The sound of windows closing thundered through the house. Andrea stood and flung both arms around John’s neck. Neither of them moved.
“What on earth was that?” he yelled. After several moments of silence, the air in the room grew cold. Within seconds their breath fogged in front of them. As blasts of freezing air stung their flesh, Andrea buried her face in John’s chest. She could hear his heart beating fast. He held her tightly against him to protect her from the deadly cold. His eyes burned from the force of it.
White sheets of frost began to form everywhere — on the windows, the furniture, and even their hair. Andrea shivered and cried out, “John! It’s happening again. Just like the other day.” Hysteria set in and she clung to his strong body, but the air continued to grow colder until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped away from him and shouted, “Anna, why are you doing this?”
John gathered her into his arms again. As quickly as it had started, the cold gusts suddenly stopped. The house went still, and the room began to warm. The front door creaked open, and the windows rose. Within seconds, it was all over. No cold, no frost.
Still very frightened, they held on to one another as they stood in the living room not knowing what to expect next. John let his arms drop away from her, a look of fear, bewilderment, and confusion on his face.
Tears filled her eyes. “Now do you believe me?”
John stepped away from her. He ran out of the room like a wild man. Andrea followed behind him, struggling to keep up. He raced frantically through the house, checking the windows, the doors, and the thermostat on the wall in the foyer. Then he ran outside. She let him go, and watched through the living room window as he hurried across the yard and disappeared around the side of the house.
After inspecting the windows and doors from outside, he entered the back door and hurried to the living room. His face was flushed, and he spoke very fast. “This is some crazy thing, Andrea. There’s got to be an explanation. Don’t tell me it’s a ghost, either. I’ll call an engineer and have this house checked. I’ll find out what’s going on here.”
His ranting came as no surprise. She knew only too well he would look for a logical reason for this, and that he wasn’t going to find one. John paced back and forth while he stroked the hair at the side of his head in his nervous habit. There was no point in arguing with him. He’d made up his mind and would have to find out for himself.
The evening grew late. John had checked the doors and windows six more times. Andrea began to get annoyed with him. “John, it’s over for now. Stop trying to find something. Believe me, there’s nothing to explain this. Let’s just go to bed. You can call someone tomorrow if it makes you happy.”
It was a long night for both of them, tossing and turning in bed. John got up several times to check the house. He would go through the entire second floor, then down to the kitchen and through all the rooms on the first floor. He even went outside twice.
Andrea lay in bed listening for any unusual sounds. Every noise seemed amplified. Even the crickets outside became so loud to her it seemed like they were right in the room. The slightest creak in the floor closed in on her. She tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come.
The night seemed to last forever. Finally, John’s alarm went off. He bolted upright with his eyes wide open, got out of bed, and hurried out of the room. Andrea knew he would look through the house again, and there was nothing she could say to stop him. She rose from bed, put on her robe, wiggled her feet into her slippers, and went down to the kitchen.
John sat at the table staring into space, a worried look on his face. She approached him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You had a restless night too. You must feel as bad as I do this morning. I’ll make the coffee.”
She went to the sink and filled the pot with water. When the coffee was done, she poured them each a cup and brought them to the table. His silence made her uncomfortable, so she took her coffee and went back up to the bedroom. She sat in the chair by the bedroom window. While she sipped her coffee and gazed out at the yard below, she wondered what she should do to make John understand. Even though she knew it would take a lot to convince him about a ghost, she had to try.
Soon, John came up to get ready for work. Andrea didn’t speak to him. He went about his morning routine, taking a shower, shaving, and dressing without saying a word. When it was time for him to leave, he kissed Andrea on the cheek. “I’ll contact an engineer sometime today, and I’ll call you to let you know when he’ll be here. If anything strange happens in the meantime, I want you to call me right away and then leave the house.”
Andrea shook her head, but still said nothing. John was being so stubborn about this, she was almost angry with him. The engineer wouldn’t find anything, and she knew it.
John hurried out of the house. She heard the car door slam and the car drive away. She sat in the chair by the window for a long time. Her thoughts took her back to the day they first looked at the house. The house had looked so wonderful. They had been happy, looking forward to the move. Now their lives were in turmoil.
After a while, her eyes became heavy and she could hardly keep them open. She lay on the bed and pulled the sheet up around her. Out of sheer exhaustion, she fell sound asleep. At ten, the phone rang and woke her. It was John, calling to tell her he’d hired an engineer. “His name is Don Williams. He’ll be there this afternoon at two. I want you to make sure he goes through the house thoroughly. Don’t tell him what happened last night. I just told him we wanted a structural examination of the house to see if we’ll have a problem with cold drafts in the winter. All right? You understand, don’t you?”
“I’ll make sure he goes over the house thoroughly, but I still think you’re wasting money on this. He w
on’t find anything.”
“Don’t give me that crap about ghosts again,” he spat. “I don’t wanna hear it. Just do what I ask. I’ll call you later.”
She clucked her tongue, knowing all too well he was wrong. Stubborn, that’s what he is, stubborn. There were other things she would rather be doing besides watching this guy go through the house. She spent the next hour taking a shower, getting into fresh clothing, and having a much-needed second cup of coffee. It was close to lunch time, but she didn’t feel hungry. A glass of lemonade would do, along with a little relaxation out on the patio before the engineer showed up. She couldn’t concentrate on housework or anything other than that look-alike woman in the photograph — the one thing that occupied her mind constantly since she’d found that old wooden box.
Going outside, she settled down in a lounge chair and laid her head back, gazing up at the sky. The clouds bunched up together like a fresh pile of shaving cream, floating in a northerly direction at a languid pace. Petals from the fruit trees flew through the air, landing on the lawn and shrubs below. This was just the way she’d dreamed it would be — a wonderful house with beautiful yard in a small, friendly town.
She’d never thought her dream house would be haunted. She’d find a solution, although it wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t about to move out. This was her dream come true, and she wouldn’t give up on it. There had to be a way.
****
At two o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. A short, slim-built man with a dark auburn beard, wearing a sport suit and hat, stood outside the door. He carried a briefcase and a clipboard. Wide-eyed, he peered through the narrow stained-glass window beside the door. Half-framed glasses rested on his rather large nose, his dark brown eyes looking up over the top rim.
When Andrea opened the door, he nodded and said, “Hello, I’m Don Williams. I’m here to inspect your house.”
“Yes, my husband called and told me you were coming. Please come in.”
As he came into the foyer, he removed his hat, exposing the bald top of his head. He had tightly curled brown hair around his ears and across the back of his head—a strange-looking character with a stern look on his face. The fidgety little man, holding tightly to his briefcase, asked Andrea, “Where is the kitchen?”
“Follow me, please,” she said politely.
He walked behind her down the hall to the kitchen. The funny-looking engineer stood in the middle of the room, his gaze circling the area. Then he walked over to the table and set his briefcase down on it. When he opened it, he retrieved an instant camera and a tape ruler. Then he turned to Andrea. “Where is the basement, please?”
She showed him to the cellar door, then went back into the kitchen. She sat at the table and waited. Fifteen minutes went by, then twenty. Andrea couldn’t help wondering what he was doing down there. She didn’t hear a sound.
Finally, the little man emerged from the dark, musty cellar. He set his legal pad on the table and began to make notes. Andrea waited patiently for him to comment, but he said nothing. The expression on his face never changed, still stern and sober. Taking the legal pad with him, he went to the dining room.
She followed him, trying to make some kind of conversation. “Would you like some iced tea?” A shake of his head was his only response. He kept walking, an intense look on his face. It didn’t seem like he would say much to her, if anything.
The strange man spent the next three hours going through the house. He checked every inch of the structure, made notes, measured things, took pictures, then made more notes and drew on his legal pad. John called every half hour to inquire on the status of the inspection, and became angry when she couldn’t tell him anything. On top of putting up with her husband’s impatience, she continued to watch the silent engineer go through the house over and over, looking for something she knew wasn’t there.
After the fifth time, she’d finally had it. “This is crazy, John. Stop calling me.”
“Andrea, I need to know what the hell is happening there… but all right, I’ll quit calling.” After a short time, the calls started again. She decided it was fruitless to complain and just put up with him.
At five-thirty, Don Williams concluded his inspection. He put everything back into his briefcase and went to the front door, Andrea right behind him. “Wait, Mr. Williams. Is there anything I should tell my husband?”
He took his hat and placed it on his head. “No, I’ll call him when I’ve completed my report.” He tipped his hat and went out the door. She watched him get into his car and drive away. He’d really worn on her nerves.
As she turned to go back to the kitchen, she saw John’s car pulling into the driveway. He hurried to the door. She waited for him, noticing the nasty grin on his face. She’d be ready with some harsh words if he gave her a hard time.
“Did he leave?” John asked.
Andrea looked right at him with a grin. “You just missed him.”
He set his briefcase down on the floor and started right in on her. “What did he say? Did he figure out what is going on in this house?” He went on with questions, one right after another, without giving her a chance to answer. “Well, come on, say something. What’s the deal?”
“John!” she shouted. “There is nothing to tell you. All he said was he would call you when he finished his report. I don’t know what you want. I had a hard time watching what he was doing because I was too busy answering your phone calls all day.”
The two of them went into the living room. Andrea stood by the window while John paced back and forth. “He must have said or done something that struck you as important. The man was here for over three hours. Are you saying he didn’t say anything in all that time?” By then, John’s face had flushed bright red. She could tell he was angry, but so was she. He couldn’t stop pacing and smoothing his hair back.
“I told you, the man will call you when he has your stupid report done!” she shouted. With that, she turned and walked out of the room and headed for the kitchen.
He followed her as far as the foyer then stood there for a few minutes before starting up the stairs. Halfway up, he paused a moment as though he wanted to go after her but then went on up the stairs two at a time.
Andrea began fixing dinner. She wanted to keep busy so she could settle her nerves. Fighting with John didn’t set well with her. She seldom used that tone of voice with him, and she wasn’t happy about it. This wasn’t the time to quarrel with him. She just wanted the two of them to have calm, clear heads as they tried to figure out what to do.
In a more civil mood, they talked over dinner about what had happened the night before. She had her doubts about the engineer’s report because she’d never considered any other answer to the strange events. She knew without a doubt that something evil, or at least an earthbound spirit with an attitude, dwelled in the house. She found it inconceivable to think that the problems were caused by anything other than a ghost.
John, on the other hand, was optimistic. “You’ll see, Andrea. There’s something with the way this house was built.”
“You’re kidding yourself. No one is going to find something in this house to cause something that bizarre. I think Anna has something to do with it. Maybe she’s trying to tell us something, or maybe she’s just trying to scare us.”
Andrea stacked the dishes in the sink and followed him to the living room, where he stood looking out the front window. A skeptic in the true sense of the word, John could not accept her theory. “Let’s wait for the report.” He grabbed the newspaper on his chair and sat down. He looked pretty funny holding it upside down. She knew she couldn’t convince him, though, so she stopped talking about it.
He set the paper down in his lap and looked over at her. “I’m sure there will be some reasonable explanation in the report. There are no ghosts.”
“Okay, have it your way, but you’re the one who will see.” Andrea felt so sure of what was going on in the house — it could never be explained in a rational way
. She remembered what Marie Holden had told her, especially the story of Anna’s death. Somehow Andrea knew Anna’s body wasn’t in that lonely grave. If only there were a way to find out. She desperately wanted to know.
Thinking it might be a good time to talk to John about it, she said, “Remember when I told you there had been some suspicion that Anna wasn’t really buried in that grave? I don’t believe she is there. I wonder if we could have it dug up.”
John bolted upright. “Are you crazy? You don’t just go around digging up corpses.” He shook a finger at her. “What would you use as an excuse? That you just wanted to see if she’s in there?” He began to pace the floor again. “Sure, the grave diggers will run right out there and get to work, just for you. Forget it, Andrea. It’s out of the question. I don’t wanna hear any more of this. I have some work to do. I’m going upstairs.” He stormed out of the room, stopping in the foyer to pick up his briefcase, and then went up the stairs two at a time.
Andrea sat quietly on the sofa. John’s outrage had her upset. If only she could find a way to make him understand and at least consider what she’d suggested. How else could she convince him there was a ghost in the house?
Upstairs in the bedroom, John sat on the bed with his briefcase open, shuffling through some papers though not really concentrating. He had become so frustrated, and he didn’t want to think about the things going on, but the reality stuck in his mind as if branded there. Deep inside he wondered if Andrea was right, but he found it too hard to believe. The idea of a ghost overwhelmed him.
He’d placed Don Williams’s card on the bed next to his briefcase. He picked it up and held it in his hand, staring at it. It only displayed the man’s office number. He would have to wait until morning to call him.
Andrea came into the room. “You must be tired, John. We both need to get some sleep. We can talk about things tomorrow. Maybe you won’t be as upset then.”
What Happened to Anna? Page 8