The Ghosts of Summerleigh Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “Yep, and it’s ready to go.” Ben smiled and showed his missing tooth. I liked him more by the minute. “All right. Let’s go.”

  We only caught two small fish, but it wasn’t a total loss. Ben was quiet and his little cousin even quieter. It was a nice evening tossing lines in the water. We talked a little, more than I thought we would. I didn’t come back until after dark, and I was bone-tired. I had homework, but somehow, it didn’t seem that important anymore. They must have managed supper because although the kitchen was tidy when I came in the back door, I could smell the remnants of fried chicken. I opened the refrigerator hoping to find a piece, but there wasn’t any left. Mr. Daughdrill must have stayed for dinner. I grabbed some more strawberries and headed to my room. But then I heard the pop of Momma’s lighter and saw her face illuminated in the yellow light.

  “Awful late, Harper Louise. I guess you were out with a boy.”

  “It’s not that late. Only nine o’clock. I lost track of time is all.”

  “It’s easy to do when you’re in someone’s arms,” she said as she spat a stray bit of tobacco leaf out of her mouth and eyed me. She had her arm crooked over the back of her chair. I couldn’t smell any alcohol, but I had to be careful. Any minute, Momma could turn on you. I glanced around carefully and spotted a skillet on the stove. She followed my eyes and tilted her head up.

  “I wasn’t in anyone’s arms. I’m only fifteen, Momma. I went fishing is all.”

  She took a deep drag off her skinny cigarette and said in a quiet voice, “You’ll have to sleep upstairs tonight. Mr. Daughdrill is sleeping in your room. I expect he will sleep in there for a few nights at least.”

  “What? Why is he here?”

  She didn’t answer my question. “I left you some blankets on the couch. I guess you could sleep on it if you don’t mind the smell. It really needs to be cleaned, Harper.”

  “Why is he in my bed? Don’t you remember how he treated you?”

  “That’s all over now, and I’ve forgiven him. And you should too, dear. It’s what’s best for us all. Now, don’t make a fuss. Go to sleep. You have school in the morning, in case you forgot. I swear, you behave more like your sister every day.”

  I stomped my foot. “Good! I want to be like her. And why can’t you say her name, Momma? Do you remember her name? Jeopardy! Why can’t you say her name?” I was shouting now, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Of course I do. You think I could forget her? You think I don’t see her all the time? I wish…I wish a lot of things, but wishing don’t make it reality. Go to bed, Harper.”

  “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

  “You can’t sleep with Addison. She’s ill and can’t be disturbed.”

  “So you want me to go upstairs and sleep with the ghosts, then?” I wasn’t joking. The idea of sleeping in Jeopardy’s castle room or any other room on that floor frightened me. Jep had always been braver than me.

  “You know perfectly well your sister would never hurt you. Go to bed.”

  And in that moment, I knew Momma believed Jeopardy was dead. But why did she think that? I lay on the couch first, but it was so uncomfortable that I couldn’t sleep. I could smell Mr. Daughdrill’s pipe tobacco too, and the odor made me squeamish. I tiptoed to Addison’s room. I could hear Mr. Daughdrill snoring in my room before I even got into the hallway. Addie was out like a light. I crept back down the hall and retrieved my blanket and pillow.

  I felt like I was going into exile, like I was now officially banned from the family. I didn’t fit in anymore. I wasn’t wanted.

  Was this how Jeopardy felt?

  I haven’t given up on you, Jep. I love you. You are the best sister a girl ever had. I’ll bring you home. I swear, as God is my witness, I swear. With fat tears, I made the trek up the stairs and walked down the dark hallway to the attic. I heard nothing, I saw nothing, and I kept my eyes ahead of me.

  It was as if the ghosts were expecting me and welcomed me. I was one of them now. Or I would be soon.

  The attic door opened with a creak. I closed it behind me and stood in the dark trying to adjust my eyes to the dimness. Jeopardy’s pallet was under the window. I tossed my blanket on top of hers and put my pillow beside hers. Absolutely exhausted, I curled up in a ball and clutched her pillow, which still held her sweet, wild scent. She smelled like sunshine and wildflowers and tobacco. She smelled like life…but not anymore.

  Where are you, Jeopardy Belle? Why did you leave me?

  I cried myself to sleep and woke up early as the sun was beginning to rise. My body was stiff and achy all over from sleeping on the floor. I missed my comfortable bed, but I doubted that I would ever sleep in it again. I could hear the signs of life in the house even before I opened my eyes.

  Mariana, oh Mariana. Open your eyes. Open them. Open your eyes. Look what I have…

  “What? Ben?” I heard a boy’s voice, but I couldn’t fathom who it could be. There were no boys in this house, especially not up here. I blinked against the sunlight that streamed through the window. I saw him for only the briefest of seconds.

  It was a boy with large dark eyes, black hair and pale skin. He held a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of my hair in the other. I screamed as he vanished, and my hand immediately went to my hair.

  I couldn’t believe it, but the ghost had cut a lock of my hair. It was gone. I looked around the bed and saw nothing. Had I cut my hair in my sleep? No, of course not. I didn’t even own a pair of scissors.

  I scooted away from the pallet and put my back against the wall, waiting for my heart to stop racing. There were indeed ghosts here. And one of them had a pair of scissors. Loxley had been telling the truth all along.

  I ran as fast as I could out of the attic and down the stairs. I didn’t stop until I found Addison. Instantly, she put her arms around me. “It’s okay, Harper. You can sleep with me tonight. You can stay with me. You don’t ever have to go upstairs again.”

  I would hold her to that promise.

  Chapter Twelve—Jerica

  I glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was eight o’clock already. I could hear men’s voices downstairs. Must be Jesse and Ben. I didn’t wait for Marisol’s hug. I’d given up on those. Instead, I clutched her purple bear to my chest and kissed it before climbing out of bed. It wasn’t her favorite toy, but it was the only one I had left. Eddie had taken everything else. I suddenly felt the urge to call the detective handling his case to get more details on how things had turned out, but I resisted. Yeah, I wanted Eddie to rot under the jail, but as long as he was nowhere near me, I wasn’t going to bother wasting any more time on him.

  I found a white t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts to wear. It was going to be another hot day, and I had to get into that house somehow without upsetting Ben too much. I wondered how Jesse had fared on the wicker sofa. I heard a vehicle pull out of the driveway. Was that Jesse? Ben? I’d find out in a minute, but first I had to brush this hair of mine. I began brushing the knots out and was surprised to find a chunk of it was missing.

  A sizable chunk.

  Oh my God! Was I going bald? I searched my bed for the missing hair, but there was nothing there. I didn’t know why I couldn’t remember what happened to it. I hadn’t had a drop to drink last night and couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a pill, since I’d never found a new doctor to get those new prescriptions. But whether I remembered it or not, a good half-inch of my hair had been cut, and whoever had done the deed had chunked it up big time. No, wait. He’d cut several chunks of my hair. And now I had a fragmentary memory of the sound of heavy scissors.

  “What in the…” Well, there were only two other people in my house. But would either Jesse or Ben pull such a prank? Was this some sort of south Mississippi joke?

  “You guys, is this a joke?” I said as I walked into the kitchen, holding up my hair to show them the cut spot. The room was empty except for a note on the table written in Jesse’s neat handwriting.r />
  Taking Ben to town to buy a new tire. His spare won’t make it home. I called Hannah. They’ll be back over after Ben leaves. Made you some coffee and cinnamon rolls.

  -J

  He didn’t say, “Hey, I took some hair,” so I must be losing my mind. I poured a cup of coffee and marched back upstairs to try and do something with my mop. The struggle was real. I finally pulled on a ball cap and pulled my ponytail out the back. This would have to do until I could see a stylist about my unwanted haircut.

  That boy, the ghost that scared Harper in my dream, didn’t he have a pair of scissors? The creepy crawlies covered my body, but the sensation did not fill me with fear as it might have before. No, I was feeling something else now. I was feeling pissed off. First, he tries to drown me in the river, and now he cuts my hair off? What was wrong with this ghost? Did he think I was Mariana? Maybe he thought he screwed up the first time and wanted to come back to finish the job now?

  I waited around for a few minutes and decided to take a walk to Summerleigh. I wanted some answers, and I wanted them yesterday. And by heavens, I was going to get them. I didn’t know what I expected to learn, but I finished my coffee and walked out of the caretaker’s cottage, leaving the door unlocked in case Jesse beat me home. I walked down the gravel pathway and went to the back door of Summerleigh. I knocked politely, as I nearly always did when I came in through this entrance. Nobody answered, of course, but for a moment I imagined I heard a chair slide under the table. Am I interrupting breakfast, Harper?

  “It’s me, Jerica Poole,” I announced as I opened the door. I dreaded hearing the sounds of doors closing again in this breezy old house, so I propped a chair against the door to keep it open. “I’m not here to bother anyone, Harper. I’m still your friend.”

  Jerica…

  Someone whispered my name. But who?

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m here by myself, Harper. Addison, Jeopardy. I’m here by myself. I’m going to walk through Summerleigh. I don’t want to disturb you, but I need to find the boy. He cut my hair last night, and I want to know why.”

  And then I heard nothing but a breeze blowing in over the sink. Hey, wasn’t that window closed? It had to be. I walked over to the window, and sure enough, it was closed. So where was that breeze coming from? We hadn’t installed the new air conditioning system yet. I raised my hand above my head. No, this wasn’t a draft. It was coming from the window. I could feel it up there too. What was that? There was a small stepladder in the kitchen, which I moved under the window so I could take down the curtains. Maybe the window wasn’t sealed properly. Maybe air was getting in through a loose shim that we’d neglected to caulk. Anything was possible.

  I stood on the ladder and reached above the window. Aha! That was it. It was breezy out, and this crack in the window seal was making the curtains flutter. I felt like a true paranormal investigator on one of the shows that Eddie used to enjoy watching. “Debunked,” I announced proudly as I started to climb back down the short ladder.

  But then I saw a face looking back at me from the other side of the window. It was the angriest face I’d ever seen. With red eyes in a shriveled skull, it bared its yellowed teeth at me. I knew who I was looking at. This was the very dead Mr. Daughdrill. With a scream of surprise, I fell backward and hit my head so hard that I saw stars.

  And then I felt warm blood trickling down my neck. “Harper…” I whispered as everything faded.

  Then I heard nothing at all.

  Chapter Thirteen—Jerica

  “Come on, Jeopardy. You’ll make us late again.” I heard a woman’s voice behind me and recognized it as belonging to Jeopardy’s Aunt Dot. I clutched her hand. Dot was so pretty, far prettier than her sister. Why couldn’t anyone else see it, especially Dot?

  “Please, I’m not Jeopardy. My name is Jerica, Jerica Poole.”

  “Jeopardy Belle, what did your Daddy tell you about lying?” Aunt Dot led me to the mirror in her room and pointed at me. The face looking back wasn’t mine. I wasn’t Jerica Poole anymore. I was truly Jeopardy Belle. Or at least I was her in this dream or whatever it was.

  “John Belle, come see your daughter. She’s playing that game again, you know, the one where she pretends she’s somebody else.”

  John walked into the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe in his white overalls and a white t-shirt. He was as handsome today as he was the day I met him on the front porch of the caretaker’s cottage.

  “Please tell her, JB. You know who I am. You must know I’m not your daughter. I’m Jerica Poole.” A gleam of recognition was in his eyes, but he couldn’t answer me because Aunt Dot stepped in the way and closed the door between us.

  “Jeopardy Belle, stop playing these games and get ready. We aren’t going to have enough time to get you up to that school before Harper’s big debut, and it’s so important to her that you go.”

  No, this is all wrong. John Jeffrey Belle had already died when Harper went to the Harvest Dance. “Let me out of here. I have to go. I have to go now. I don’t belong here.” And then I saw that Aunt Dot had a pair of silver scissors in her hand.

  “Dot? What are you doing with those?”

  Aunt Dot’s eyes were no longer a pretty soft blue, and her face had lost its feminine softness. Her eyes were dark, like two bottomless pits with no white at all. The woman—or whatever it was—was not Jeopardy’s Aunt Dot.

  She shouted, “Give me what I want! I must have it!”

  With a scream, I pushed her away as I closed my eyes and waited for the blow. I had nowhere to run, nowhere to go. I was trapped in the bathroom with this blade-wielding entity. I threw my hands up instinctively to fend off the attack.

  It didn’t come.

  “Mommy, come with me.”

  I looked up to see Marisol in the doorway. The door was open, but the boy, the one who had pretended to be Aunt Dot, was in my way. “I command you to leave me alone! I own this house. It’s not yours!” He wasn’t as small as I remembered. No, not at all. This ghost was much older than the boy Jesse and I had seen on the second floor of Summerleigh.

  And then he vanished, but I got the sense that he was not far away. I might have repelled him for the moment, but he was strong and persistent. And he wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted, whatever that was. I shivered at the thought. I stepped into the hallway and looked left and right. Just as I turned to the right, I saw my daughter’s shiny dark ringlets sailing behind her as she ran up the attic stairs.

  “No, wait! Marisol, don’t go in there. Please!”

  She turned back to me for the briefest of seconds before she opened the door and walked inside. I had no choice but to follow her. I had waited so long to see her, and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity now. I walked to the attic door, which stood open, put my foot on the step and waited to hear something. What if this is another trick? It didn’t matter. I had to go!

  “Marisol?” I cried softly. “If you’re in here, please tell Mommy. I need to hear your voice, baby girl.”

  And then I heard her say as clear as a bell, “Where are you, Mommy? I’m waiting for you.” As I stepped into the attic fully, I said a silent prayer. It was the same kind of prayer I had heard Harper pray so long ago. “Dear God, please don’t let her be terrible. Please don’t let my baby look like a monster. Please, God, help me.”

  There were many candles lit in the window near the place where Jeopardy’s bed used to be. Jeopardy always liked candles. I knew that about her. Not many people knew it, but she enjoyed making candles. She’d spent many afternoons up here working with wax and wicks and molds, making her own creations. She had gotten quite good at it too, but like most things, once she mastered it, she got bored with it. But she loved this room; the ghosts never bothered her. And she loved her family, especially her sisters.

  Yes, it was as if I could feel Jeopardy. I knew what she knew, what she felt. How strange that I would have this experience.

  Jeopardy. You have to know I tr
ied to help you. Harper tried too.

  She didn’t want to hear about that right now. She had something else on her mind, something she wanted to show me. She liked Marisol. Marisol reminded her of Loxley. And then I saw that my Marisol was sitting on the pallet with Jeopardy Belle. They were playing some sort of board game and having the time of their life. Marisol laughed as she tossed the dice and moved her blue piece around the board. I thought for a minute that they didn’t see me, but I knew that wasn’t true because I could feel and see and hear what Jeopardy felt and saw and heard. She knew I was there.

  I didn’t know what to do. Should I approach them? What if I walked toward them and then Marisol vanished? I couldn’t live with that. Quietly, so I didn’t disturb them, I sat on the floor a few feet away and stared at my baby’s face. It was perfect and not broken at all. She was alive; her face was not pale, as it had been when I’d seen it last. It was sun-kissed, lovely and just as I remembered. My hands covered my mouth as I attempted to remain quiet. They wanted to show me something. Why didn’t they just talk to me?

  Jeopardy? You know I’m here. Just tell me what it is you want me to know.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, they began picking the pieces up and putting them back in the box. Was their game over already? I reached a shaking hand toward Marisol, but the air moved around me and I heard Jeopardy’s raspy voice in my ear.

  No. It’s forbidden.

  They wouldn’t look at me or talk to me, except Jeopardy picked up a tiny book and let me see it before she put it in the Life board game box. They got up from the pallet and walked to the door with the game.

  Marisol, please, honey. Look at Mommy.

  She didn’t, and I wanted to cry. I followed the girls as they left the castle room and went downstairs. To my surprise, they went not to the kitchen but instead to a small closet under the stairs. I don’t think I’d noticed the hidden cabinet before, but now I wondered how I hadn’t seen it. I was a carpenter’s daughter, for pity’s sake. Jeopardy put the game in the hidden door and closed it tight. She looked at me once more, then stood up and stretched out her hand to Marisol.