He agreed and put his office work away, then undressed for bed. They lay in bed, back to back. Andrea heard his breathing become shallow and knew he slept. She lay awake a very long time. Finally, she got out of bed and went to the window. A star-filled sky and a bright moon lit up the yard below, casting a sense of calm over the land. Everything appeared to be peaceful and quiet.
Turning, she watched shadows dance across the room like living creatures. Holding her hands together, she prayed for the night to end. She felt emotionally exhausted, as though all energy had drained away. She returned to the bed and climbed in. After a while, she finally dozed off.
Just before dawn, a voice in the near distance broke the silence, waking Andrea immediately. She sat up and listened, trying to determine where it was coming from. Her heart began to beat fast as she got out of bed and moved to the door. She hesitated, then stepped out into the hallway. Other than a small ray of moonlight streaming from the long window at the end of the hallway, darkness filled the second floor. She looked all around as though she expected to see someone or something. Nothing moved but a few shadows dancing on the walls.
She started away from the bedroom, being very careful not to make any noise. The muffled voice became louder and clearer as she came closer to the staircase. Suddenly, she heard her name. “Andreaaaaa.”
It came from somewhere in the distance, but sounded clear as a bell. Shivers ran the length of her spine, and goose bumps rose up her arms as a rush of fear swelled inside her. She stopped and stood still. Her first thought was to hurry back to the bedroom and wake John, but she quickly put that idea out of her mind.
Again she heard her name. “Andrea… leave this house…” It faded away with the last word.
Frightened but determined to investigate further, she went slowly down the hallway, pausing several times to look around. Without warning, the attic door flung open as she passed it. Frigid air rushed out at her. The shock of the bitter cold threw her into a frenzy. She ran to the attic door and tried to close it, pushing against it with her body, but the tornado-like strength of the rushing air prevented her from closing the door. She started to lose her footing as she leaned into it with her whole body.
Abruptly, the rushing air stopped. Andrea tumbled to the floor as the door slammed shut under her weight. She lay stunned.
John hurried out to the hallway. “What happened? I heard some noises, and when I got up you were gone. Now I find you here on the floor. What’s going on?”
Andrea was hysterical. She could hardly speak. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, speaking softly to her. “It’s okay, Andrea. Tell me what happened. Just take it slow and talk to me.”
“John… John. Please, you have to listen to me. There is something awful in this house. You must help me find out what it is. I’m sure it has something to do with the woman in the photograph. It’s like she’s trying to tell me something.”
He held her close. “All right, Andrea, settle down and tell me what went on out there in the hallway.” He continued holding her and comforting her.
Although it was difficult for her to describe what had happened, Andrea managed to tell John as she tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back the tears. She shivered and shook with every sobbing word. He listened without saying anything.
When she finished, he looked deep into her eyes as though he were trying to understand her feelings, her thoughts. He kissed her forehead and covered her with a blanket. “Just stay here and rest, Andrea. I’m going to check the house. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back. Close your eyes and rest.”
As he started to walk away, Andrea sat up. “John, it was a woman’s voice I heard. She called my name.” She began to cry again.
He turned and went out the door. He roamed through the house, checking everywhere for any clues or explanations. Again, he found nothing unusual or out of place. Having checked the first floor, he went back upstairs to the attic door. He opened it and started up the darkened staircase. A musty smell blasted him as he reached the top of the stairs.
Suddenly, he heard Andrea call him, and hurried down the stairs. When he stormed into the room, he found her upright in bed, crying. “I am so afraid, John. I heard the attic door open and… I don’t know what I thought.” She looked scared out of her wits, her eyes red from crying.
He wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. “Don’t cry, babe. I looked all through the house and there’s nothing there. Everything looks okay now.” He tried to console her the best he could, knowing it had been more than just a bad dream. Something very real had happened. Still, he wanted there to be a logical answer to it all. He couldn’t bring himself to believe in ghosts. Not yet.
Dawn was breaking. Sunbeams began to penetrate the darkness. John and Andrea held each other close as they lay in bed, waiting and listening. Andrea had stopped shaking, but the fear lingered. The sound of the alarm clock startled them, and both quickly sat up. John reached over and turned it off. “I’m not going to the office today. I’ll call in and let them know I won’t be there. Wasn’t much going on today anyway.”
Andrea threw her legs over the edge of the bed, searched for her slippers with her feet, and then rose and put on her robe. Although morning heat surrounded them, it seemed cold in the house. “Come down to the kitchen with me while I make coffee,” she asked.
“Do you feel all right? I can make the coffee and bring it up here if you want,” he said as he walked to the window.
She moved to the bedroom door. “I’m not going to stay up here all day feeling bad and frightened. I need to get up and do what I want.”
John took Don Williams’s business card and followed her down to the kitchen. He took her hand. “Let me make the coffee, and you just sit here at the table. Tell me again what happened this morning.” He couldn’t bear seeing his sweet, lovely wife this way, but he had to hear her tell him one more time. It sounded like a horror movie. He put the coffee pot on and came to the table to sit with her.
Williams’s card set in front of him. Andrea glanced at it, and then looked at him.
“What will it take to convince you?” she asked in a condescending tone. “That engineer is not going to tell you what you want to hear. Why do you insist on finding a logical reason for all of this?”
Speechless, he poured a cup of coffee, then went out the back door, leaving her sitting with her unanswered comments. He spent some time on the patio before he came in again. “I want to see that attic with some light. It’s so dark up there I couldn’t see anything earlier.”
Nervous about him going back to the attic, her fearful thoughts went crazy. Would he find something terrible, or come up with some kind of theory she couldn’t accept? For what seemed like a long time, Andrea waited for John’s return. Finally, she heard the attic door close, and John descended the stairs to the foyer.
His face pale and drawn, he entered the kitchen shaking his head. “There’s nothing up there,” he announced. “Just a lot of dust and cobwebs — and heat. I don’t understand it.” He went to the sink and ran the cold water. “What am I supposed to be looking for, anyway? I’ll be darned if I know.” Then he splashed water on his face and dried it with a kitchen towel.
He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I have to let the girls at the office know I’m not coming in today.” After that call, John held Mr. Williams’s card as he dialed the number listed on it. It rang and rang. He drummed his fingers on the table for several moments before he hung up.
Andrea watched him. “John, his office wouldn’t be open this early. Why not wait until nine o’clock?”
He spent the next forty-five minutes pacing back and forth in the kitchen, until the clock on the wall read nine. There had been little conversation between him and Andrea during this time. He could only think of getting in touch with the engineer, hoping he had something reasonable to tell. The unusual happenings in the house had to be some kind of a fluke.
John took the phone and cal
led the number on the card again. This time Mr. Williams answered on the second ring. “I have your report, Mr. Devon. I can mail it to you today if you’d like.”
He scowled. “I’m not going to wait for it to come in the mail! Tell me what you came up with now. I can understand, just tell me.”
“Mr. Devon, there is no need for you to shout at me. There seems to be no structural problem with your house. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I came up with nothing that would cause unusual drafts in the house. It’s actually a very sound structure.”
“Did you check everything? What about the attic? Was the cellar okay?”
He continued to question Williams until he finally made the man angry. “All right, Mr. Devon. I’ll send you the report, and if you can find something I’ve missed, you can let me know. Thank you.” He hung up.
Furious, John stormed out the back door and walked briskly to the rear of the yard. He was so disappointed. He had counted on some sensible reason for at least the cold air, never mind the so-called crying Andrea said she had heard.
Chapter Seven
Andrea watched John through the window. She knew he didn’t believe the house had a ghost. He wouldn’t listen when it came to that idea. She herself had a hard time dealing with it. The only thing that made her so sure ghosts existed was an experience she’d shared with a friend in high school. Diane, a good friend whom she had a close relationship with, had told her about noises in her house and things disappearing. At first, like many, she thought Diane had made it all up, but after a while Diane was able to convince her that her story could be true. That was when Andrea began to look into the phenomenon of ghosts and the paranormal.
From time to time, Andrea glanced out the window at John. He stayed outside for over an hour. She saw him stroll around the lawn and then stand at the far end of the yard, looking at the shrubs and bushes. He continually ran his hands through his hair and paced back and forth in a nervous manner.
After a while, Andrea couldn’t watch him anymore. Stepping away from the window, she kept herself busy with household chores. She moved around in a routine way, managing to dust and put things away in the living room. Every few minutes she would stand still and listen, wondering when the next episode would occur. She knew there would be more. Waiting for it, she agonized over the thought.
Finally, John came in. His face looked drawn and flushed; a deep frown creased his forehead. When he went upstairs to shower, Andrea stayed in the living room, trying to focus on a television show. It was almost impossible to concentrate on anything else but the situation in the house and the problem with John. She had never seen him act like this before. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet after exercising so much male supremacy.
John came downstairs for a flashlight. “I’m going up in the attic to check again,” he announced.
Andrea could hear him walking around up there, but she made no attempt to go up to the attic. She remained in the living room, trying to divert her attention with television as she sat nervously wringing her hands. When John came down to the foyer, she called out to him. “Did you find anything?”
He was slow to answer her. “No, I didn’t. There was nothing up there that could have caused cold air to blow down the stairs like you said. It’s very hot up there.”
She followed him into the kitchen. “I didn’t dream all of this, John. The cold was real. It was coming from the attic like wind from a tornado.”
John shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know what to think, Andrea. I had my experience with the cold too. I have to admit, I did hear something this morning. It woke me up.”
Andrea went about the kitchen, fixing sandwiches for lunch. They sat at the table together, eating but not saying much of anything. After he finished, John went back outside to work again in the yard. Andrea kept busy in the house, cleaning until the time came to make something for dinner.
At the table that evening, she brought up the subject of the photograph and her visit with
Marie Holden at the nursing home. “I feel a strong need to find out all I can about this woman in the photograph. I think it is her ghost in the house, and she’s here for a reason. I would like to find out why. It’s very important to me. I think it may solve our problem.”
“We better start thinking about moving out of this house. That’s what I have to say.”
“I don’t want to move, John. We could at least try to do something about this before deciding to concede and move.”
He shook his head “Like what?”
She took the opportunity to tell him the ideas she had floating around in her head. She sat forward. “Well, first thing is another visit with that sweet old lady at the nursing home. And I’d like to find that art dealer. You know, the one who once owned that painting in the restaurant. I’d like to know more about the ring. Somehow, there’s a connection between that ring and Anna. Maybe the woman in the painting is someone Anna knew, or maybe she’s related to her.”
John lowered his brows. “Andrea, what do you think this will prove? You’ll do this, and then what?”
She stood up. “You just don’t understand, John. We are never going to get to the bottom of all of this unless we find out some very important things.”
“I can’t see it your way. I don’t believe in ghosts and can’t understand how any of this could make any difference.” He paced around the room. “All right, see what you can find out if that makes you happy. Just remember though, if things continue to happen around here, we had better start thinking of moving, and that I will insist on.”
For the moment, she was satisfied with his attitude and knew she could work more to convince him at a later time.
****
That night, Andrea lay awake a long time. She wanted to get up and sit by the window, but she had to be careful not to wake John. He’d already started to toss around in bed so much that she knew he wasn’t sleeping soundly. Better if she just let him be, but there would come another time when she would confront him with more of her ideas. The sound of crickets outside the window soothed her, and she finally fell asleep.
She woke to the familiar sound of crying. A quick glance at the clock told her it was five a.m. She went to wake John, but thought better of it. Perhaps it would be best to leave him be.
Fear rose inside her as she left the bed and slowly made her way out to the hallway. Once again the crying seemed to come from the attic door. She moved with some hesitation toward the sound. When the floor creaked beneath her feet, she rose up on her tiptoes and proceeded slowly. She trembled inside, her heart beating fast and hard against her chest, while a cold chill ran down her spine. Every shadow became a potential threat, every sound a warning of another incident.
She came to the staircase and stopped — the crying was louder, but more toward the opposite side of the hall. She looked at it as though expecting something to come right through it. If I open it, will that awful wind…?
Collecting all the courage she could muster, she went to the door and stood there, facing the possibility of another scary episode. Slowly, she reached for the knob. As her fingers came close to the shiny brass knob she could feel the cold emanating from it. She pulled her hand back for a moment. Then, with a sudden move, she grabbed it. The icy cold stung her fingers and palm, but she turned it anyway. The door opened a crack, and then suddenly flew completely open. A rush of freezing air shocked her as it struck her face. “No, no, not again!” she yelled. The wind hit her like a winter blizzard, full blast.
Holding fast, hands on the wall along the stairs, she climbed higher and higher, pushing against the arctic wind. Darkness surrounded her, but the crying continued, becoming more intense. A shivery chill ran through her as she came close to the top.
She looked for any movement as she stepped foot on the wooden board at the top of the stairs. Suddenly, the crying stopped. No more cold air or gushing wind. Gone. The third floor became very warm, then hot once again.
Her heart
beat throbbed in her throat. She turned and went slowly down the stairs to the hallway. Quietly, she closed the attic door. She felt like someone was watching her, but she could see no one.
When she entered the bedroom, she noticed John still asleep. As she went across the room to the chair at the window, the floor made a slight squeak, just enough to wake him.
He sat up and asked, “Where did you go? Is something going on?” He looked over at the clock. The illuminated dial of the face read five-thirty. He rubbed his eyes. “Why are you up so early, Andrea? Was something going on?” He got out of bed and walked over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to answer me? What happened?”
She continued to look out the window as she spoke. “Nothing happened. I thought I heard something and got up to check.” She was afraid to tell him about the crying she’d heard and the cold air. She had to keep some things from him for fear he would talk about moving again. No way did she want to move out of that house. She stood and started for the door. “Go back to bed. You have another hour before you have to get up. I’ll go down and make some coffee. I can’t sleep anyway. Just go back to sleep for a while.”
“Wait just a minute. I can tell you’re upset. You’re shaking all over, and you look terrible. I want you to tell me right now… what is going on?”
“I’m upset because I’m thinking about the other night. Just go back to bed, John. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not that easy, Andrea. I’m wide awake now. I can’t go back to sleep for just an hour. I might as well stay up. I’ll take my shower, and I’ll be down in a while.” The tone of his voice tapered a bit. “I can’t go back to sleep after I’ve woken up so suddenly, and with this house and…”
Andrea ignored him and went down to the kitchen. Once she had the coffee on, she sat at the table. The sun had come up over the horizon, throwing beams of light from the window over the sink. Warm air flowed in through the open back door. She planned on making another trip to the nursing home to see Marie, but first she’d spend the morning calling all the Hanuses listed in the phone book.
What Happened to Anna? Page 9