Thus began months of hard physical labor, about fifty tubes of analgesic, several boxes of Band-Aids in various shapes and sizes, and more than half her savings. Still, the house turned out better than what she ever imagined.
“Jo? Are you still there?” asked Carolyn, transporting her back to the present.
“Still here and just waiting for you to finish your tirade so I can open the box,” she said. “For someone who is in such a big hurry—”
“You haven’t even cracked the lid?” wailed Carolyn. “Jo! We don’t have all day here. Just because you’re on vacation doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”
“Okay, okay. Box is open and I’m removing the top most treasures, which I wrapped in a generous amount of tissue. Do you hear the paper rustling as I open each individual layer?”
“Jo—”
Jo met the playful warning with laughter. “Oh, yes. I’m looking at the tiny pair of porcelain Cinderella slippers I inherited from my grandmother. Did I ever tell you she received these little blue-and-gold slippers as a wedding gift? Oh, and in the same bundle as the slippers, I have her elegant white swans with dainty floral motif—ditto the history. Do you remember them?”
“Yes, of course,” Carolyn said. “I’ve always coveted those swans, so if one day you find them missing—”
Jo laughed anew as she arranged the curios on the shelf and then returned to the box. She peeked inside the container. “Okay, I’m now taking out and removing the bubble wrap from around my clock.” She took a moment to gaze at the simple beauty of her Delander calendar clock. This walnut clock had passed through at least seven generations of family members. The piece made the arduous trip from the east coast to the west coast and back again. Yet, it remained in perfect condition. Even the silver-and-brass calendar movements adorning both sides of the golden face, still functioned without flaw.
“I don’t hear anything—”
“Well, I’m giving the wood a final polish, so what’s to hear?” She laughed as Carolyn sighed and muttered under her breath. “Now I’m placing it dead center atop my gorgeous, hand-carved fireplace mantel. I’m setting the time and calendar. I hope you can hear all of this—now giving the pendulum a gentle nudge, closing the face and—it looks perfect. Too bad you aren’t here to see if for yourself.”
“Aw—don’t sound so pathetic. Musicians are only supposed to cry with their music, isn’t that right?”
“Good try,” Jo countered. “All right, now placing the pictures of family members, generations past and all the way to the present.”
While she arranged each of her treasured family heirlooms about the room, Carolyn shared the moment with her. She stayed on the phone until she set her very last Irish pewter goblet on the shelf.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” Jo said as she brushed the long strands of dark auburn hair off her face and stood back to survey the results. Just as she made the comment, the sun descended below the horizon under a cloud-filled sky. The brilliant colors the duo created cast a warm golden glow through the sparkling windows and into the room.
“All right, I’m officially moved in and the place looks beautiful, even if I do say so myself,” she said with a firm nod of her head.
Carolyn met the announcement by blowing a variety of party favor squeakers and applauding for several minutes. “I’m so happy for you. But I want you to know I already miss having you here with me,” she said.
“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to come out and see the house in all its regal glory. Maybe you could spend some time here. Just think, you could indulge in a little peace and quiet,” Jo baited.
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll take you up on that offer the first chance I get, too. Listen, I really do have to go now. But thanks so much for sharing your glorious moment with me, and I have a little house-warming gift for you the next time I see you. You’re going to love it.”
Jo’s smile faded as she hung up the phone and took in the wondrous sight of her empty house. Carolyn supported her from the beginning of her purchase and all the way through the arduous renovations. But even her encouragement and enthusiasm couldn’t fill the void inside her heart.
Somehow, she arrived smack in the middle of her late twenties, without her knight in shining armor having the decency to show up on his magnificent white charger. Considering her current circumstances, she didn’t expect him to make his grand entrance anytime soon either. Therefore, without so much as a “by your leave,” she ditched him by the wayside. Well, maybe it took more than an attitude and a snooty lift of her nose. Still, she didn’t need a man to make her happy. He simply would’ve been the icing on the cake she already had.
She had a very satisfying career as a violinist with the world-famous Philadelphia Orchestra, a position she long studied for and worked hard to get. Her career enabled her to travel to many places some only dreamed of going and now enabled her to buy this beautiful home. She could go anywhere she wanted to go and do as she pleased, whenever she pleased. She didn’t need to ask anyone’s opinion, fret over feelings or conflicting schedules. Life just couldn’t get any better, could it?
Just keep telling yourself that, Jo, the tiny voice at the back of her mind taunted. Maybe one day, you’ll believe it.
A sigh escaped her lips as she shook away the somber thoughts. Enough of this. After willfully shifting her mood, she gave her head a little toss and said, “Well, Jo—look at it this way, no one will fuss over how long you’re in the shower or crab about how much hot water you use.”
“Unless the length of stay is a cause for alarm, of course.”
Jo gasped, her mouth dropped and as she spun around to confront the owner of that voice, a hand flew to her heart. Yet, she didn’t encounter a soul during the process. No one could’ve slipped past her either. As she stepped out onto the stone floor of the entryway, she inched her way to the double doors. She took hold of the large round knob and turned it just enough to free the latch. Such an act prepared her in the event she needed to sprint outside. Once outside, she could run screaming down the street.
“Hello? Is someone here? Can I help you?”
No one responded, nor did she hear any sound coming from inside the house. She shook her head and released both the knob and the breath she had held. Her grandfather clock across from the hall tree pointed to the lateness of the hour. She had risen extra early in order to arrive here at dawn determined to finish the house. After the long, arduous hours, fatigue simply set in. Because of that fatigue and the previous reflections of her non-existent knight, she conjured a voice. A magnificent male voice, with a deep, rich timbre and charming accent she couldn’t quite place. Mystery solved.
Besides, if anyone snuck into the house, the dog would’ve sounded the alarm. His ferocious bark would’ve alerted her immediately. Not to mention, the stone floor echoed when one walked on it, and the massive oak doors creaked when they opened and closed. Old homes just made odd noises. Right? She would have to get accustomed to each one of them or she would find herself jumping all over the place like some nervous ninny.
Just then, the striking of the old iron doorknocker resonated against the metal plate outside. The harsh clank shot through the door, and vibrated against her head. Her hands flew to her mouth. She stifled a scream in the same moment it occurred that the clang simply announced a visitor on the other side of her door. She took a deep calming breath and a moment for composure. Then, she turned around, put a smile on her face, and twisted the knob.
Two couples, both well into middle age, stood a considerable distance from her doorstep. One of the men, the one with streaks of gray throughout his mousy brown hair, offered her a large basket of fruit. He did so with his arms outstretched and his shoulders kind of hunched over as if he didn’t want to budge the placement of his feet. A woman, most likely his wife, drew her brows tight together in disapproval and shooed him forward. The obvious designated spokesman of the group ventured a small, half step closer. And gulped—at least twice.
>
“Ah! Well, hello there, young lady. We’re your neighbors, just down the way,” he said, waving a nervous finger in a somewhat northerly direction. “My name is Douglas Parker, this here’s my wife Gloria, and this is Richard and Ellen Anderson. They live just a few miles or so down the road and across from us.
“We, uh—well it appears you’re all moved in now, what with the moving truck coming the other day. And um—we just wanted to welcome you to the community and let you know we’re here if you should ever find you need us.” The speech flew out of his mouth with all haste. Douglas then thrust the basket toward her, clearly wanting the whole business finished.
Once again, Jo smiled at her guests, and with a single nod of her head, accepted the offering. The two couples almost made her laugh aloud. They looked so completely opposite each other. The Andersons were fair of complexion, tall and slim, while the Parkers were dark, short, and a bit on the pudgy side.
“Thank you, you’re very kind. My name is Jo Michaelsson, and you’re right. I just finished unpacking the last of my boxes a few minutes ago. I’m excited to say, I’m officially settled in.” She stood back to allow them entrance and swept a hand toward her sitting room. “Please, won’t you come in?”
The look they gave each other all but screamed, “Not on your life, missy! Wild dogs couldn’t drag us in there.” But, after a deep breath, they followed her inside. Her brows lifted a tad, and she inhaled a breath of her own as she followed these very different people into her sitting room.
The woman named Ellen halted her footsteps just as she crossed the archway. She took a moment to absorb every detail, from the ivory-painted walls, decorative crown moldings, and baseboards, to the warm earth tones Jo used to accent them. The gaze of her guest lingered over the small built-in arched shelf in the corner, littered with porcelain antiques. Her mouth dropped as she studied her antique secretary, tea tables, and chairs, all artfully arranged on the polished hardwood floor.
“Oh, my goodness,” the woman finally said. “Look what you’ve done to this place. This room is just beautiful. I can’t ever remember a time when I’ve seen it looking so grand. Not that I have been inside the house overly much, mind you.”
While the others bobbed their heads in agreement, Jo beamed with pleasure. “Thank you. I’ve put many hours of hard work into the place. At times, I wondered if I would ever get finished.” She gestured toward the furniture. “Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”
They exchanged expressions of sympathy as they gingerly sat on the edge of the sofa. Why they huddled together on the couch while three very comfortable chairs remained empty, escaped all comprehension. In fact, she had difficulty understanding the strangeness of these people all the way around. Why would they feel sorry for her? Did they or did they not just give her a compliment regarding the restoration of the property?
“Is something wrong?” she asked as she gazed from one face to the other.
“Oh. No—no. Well, uh, yes, what I mean to say is...” Gloria stammered, while looking to Ellen for help.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s just that—wait a minute. Did you say your name is Jo Michaelsson?” asked Ellen as she sat up a little straighter and placed a hand on her husband’s arm.
Jo could literally see that piece of information locking into Ellen’s brain. “Yes, I did.”
“Do you happen to play with the Philadelphia Orchestra?” she ventured again.
“Yes, I do,” she replied.
“Oh my goodness. Then you are Jolena Michaelsson, of course. You know, we attended a concert not too long ago.” She turned to her companions with widened eyes and something akin to giddiness. “Remember the big charity performance we attended just before Christmas? She performed as the master violin soloist that evening. Anyone who knows anything about world orchestras knows her name. I must tell you, my dear, I especially loved your arrangement of ‘O Holy Night.’ You played it so beautifully you had me in tears.”
The others turned to stare as if in awe.
Jo shook her head, a bit embarrassed over the fuss she made. “Well, thank you very much. You’re very kind.”
Her company relaxed a bit after Ellen’s revelation, and proceeded to have a somewhat normal conversation. If only their eyes didn’t keep darting about as if they expected Jack the Ripper to pop in, the evening might’ve been a little more pleasant. Gloria’s furtive glances finally settled on her antiques, which elicited another gasp of delighted surprise. Better late than never, Jo supposed.
“Oh my. You’ve done this whole room in antiques. How on earth did you acquire such a collection?” Gloria raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I mean, you just seem so young to have so many. You must’ve started this collection when you were just a child.”
“Well, I guess you could say I’m one of the fortunate few who descend from a long line of pack rats,” Jo replied. “As it so happened, either those pack rats produced very few living heirs, or the surviving siblings simply held no interest in all ‘that junk.’ Hence, many of the pieces passed to my parents and then on to me. I found a few of them myself along the way.”
Questions followed the hesitant acceptance of tea and homemade applesauce cookies. Their inquiries covered everything from the restoration of her house to her career. Eventually, the talk turned to the community and those who lived in it. The fact that Gloria and Ellen were sisters surprised her, for Jo had never seen two people from the same family who seemed so different. Both couples expounded the pros and cons of rural life and gave advice on just about every topic one could possibly think to give. Or at least it seemed so.
Then, after a forever amount of time, the group fell silent. The loud rhythmic tick-tock of the clock made the silence feel even more awkward. Jo struggled for additional conversation, and all the while wished they would just go home. Then, just as she wished it, Richard Anderson jerked forward. He let out a yelp of surprise as he fumbled to find a position to keep from toppling over while hanging on to his cup. His legs wobbled as he shot to his feet. He then grabbed for his wife’s ready hand to steady his stance.
“You know, it’s late, and we really need to go. We’ve intruded far longer than we dare—need too, I mean.” He gave the others a pleading look as he placed his cup on the tea table. Almost in unison, they rose from the sofa and thrust their hands toward her as if they too, wanted to leave.
“I enjoyed meeting you, Jolena,” Gloria said as she gave her hand a brief shake.
“Likewise.” She gave a nod and took each offered hand in turn, grateful for their imminent departure.
Gloria hesitated a moment and then cleared her throat. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, dear, is there a Mr. Michaelsson about?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Jo resisted the need to roll her eyes and sigh in exasperation. How she hated that question.
“You’re here all by yourself then?” ventured Ellen once again.
“Well, I do have Dakota.” She paused as her guests shot each other furtive glances. “Dakota is my dog, and for the past several years he’s served as my guard, my companion, and my very dear friend. So, you see, I’m not all alone, after all.”
“Oh, of course, but he’s just a—” Ellen shook her head as her light brown eyes bore into Jo’s deep blue ones. “Do be very careful dear. This house? Well, it’s…I mean…no one ever stays here very long. Sometimes, it’s just a few days at best. Some of the residents have even left belongings behind. Why, they even left food on the table when they…and they never returned to…to…”
Jo drew her brows together. She found it difficult to understand her incoherent babbling, especially when the woman didn’t finish her sentences. “Excuse me? I don’t know what you—”
“This house is haunted—” Gloria blurted the statement as she stepped in front of her sister. “The sounds and the sights that come off this property at times are, are—well they’re unholy. That’s what they are. No one in this community will step one foot near it for any
length of time. I think it such a shame you put in all of this hard work and effort when you’re just going to have to turn around and, and—”
Jo had to feign a cough to keep from laughing aloud. Did these people really believe in ghosts of all things? She hid her smile and attempted to appear a bit more concerned. “Well, I’m sure at one time, given the rundown appearance of the property, one might believe the house—”
“Oh, surely by now you’ve noticed the strange goings on around here,” Ellen interrupted.
“Actually, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary at all.” Jo shrugged as she clasped her hands together and looked into each anxious, incredulous, face.
“Well, I can guarantee you will,” Richard said with a firm nod of his head. “It’s only a matter of time before something awful happens to you. We’ve seen it so many times. So, please, you must remain on your guard, especially since you’re all alone out here, which I believe is even more—”
“Oh, I’ll be careful, I promise,” she cut in. “And don’t worry, I do have Dakota, and he can be very fierce when he needs to be.”
“Just the same,” Douglas said as he gripped her hand and drew it close to his chest. “Our phone numbers are on the card in the basket, we made sure. You can call day or night if you need us. We can, uh, come and pick you up should the need arise.”
After thanking them once again for the fruit and their concern, her guests simply nodded and rushed out of the door. Richard whispered something then about icy hands snaking through the cushions and shoving him out of his seat. Jo laughed as she leaned against the closed door. She found it somewhat comical. Still, they had good intentions. Other than a few quirks and a need for a bit of therapy, they seemed like very nice people. Once she cleared her sitting room of empty cups, and cleaned up the kitchen, she opened the back door.
Spirit of the Revolution Page 2