She noticed the tide was out. The Fundy tides were the highest in the world, with the water levels changing by more than seven metres twice daily. Once, she had walked out on the muddy ocean floor at night, with millions of stars both shining from above and reflecting from below on the wet sand. It had felt like walking in outer space!
After a sharp turn and a dip in the road, Gillian came upon her favourite little harbour. Usually, three or four brightly coloured fishing boats would either be bobbing on the swiftly incoming tide or, like this morning, leaning on their sides. This was the road to Blomidon, the red clay headland made famous in Nova Scotia Mi'kmaq legends as the home of Glooscap, the creator of the Universe.
On her way back from Blomidon, Gillian explored a side road she hadn't noticed before. She turned right and slowed down to enjoy the drive along the narrow winding road. At a bend in the road, she suddenly noticed a large Remax FOR SALE sign hidden in the brambles. She slowed to a stop, backed up, and turned right down a narrow driveway winding down to a small glen. There it was, her house! Gillian knew the instant she saw it.
A line of hemlocks shaded the driveway down to the two-storey white house. A majestic maple tree towered over the front veranda. To the north of the house, a stand of birch trees swayed in the breeze. Gillian quickly stepped out of her car to examine the place more closely. She noticed a pale figure standing at one of the upstairs windows. Was someone home? Gillian waved but as she approached the house, the figure vanished.
Upon closer inspection, she discovered the house was obviously deserted. The porch was half rotted; the roof and windows needed to be replaced. However, the foundation looked solid and the wood siding was in good shape. To her delight, she discovered a narrow path at the back that led through raspberry bushes down to a shallow babbling river.
Gillian hardly contained her excitement as she dialled the realtor's number on her cell phone.
“Ted Garrett here,” replied a friendly voice.
“Hello, Mr. Garrett. My name is Gillian Fleming from Halifax. I was driving around this afternoon and saw your sign in front of the two-storey white house on route 221. Is it still for sale?”
Mr. Garrett's voice brightened as he replied, “Why yes! That's the old MacLeod farm.”
“I apologize for calling after business hours but would it be possible to see the house before I return to Halifax?”
“I don't see why not! It's always business hours when you're a real-estate agent! I can meet you at the house right after supper, say 6:30?”
“That's great! See you then.”
Mr. Garrett met her in front of the house as scheduled. The front door creaked as it opened on its rusty hinges. The downstairs rooms were small and dusty but Gillian noticed the gentle beauty of the warm evening sun pouring through the living room windows. A large kitchen was in the back with a view of the river valley. There was a bathroom upstairs along with two bedrooms. The larger bedroom overlooked the maple tree at the front of the house. She imagined herself sitting at a desk in the alcove where she would gaze at the line of hemlocks swaying in the wind.
By the time they left the property, the sun had dropped behind the clouds and it was getting chilly. As they drove off, they didn't see the old lace curtain in the left dormer window slowly rise and fall.
Someone has finally come....
On Monday morning, after a weekend of comparing prices and other properties, she called Mr. Garrett.
“How much are they asking for the property?”
“They're asking $35,000,” he replied.
“That's a bit low for a property with river frontage. Is there something you're not telling me?”
Gillian thought she heard a moment of hesitation in Mr. Garrett's voice. “Well, this is the country, don't forget, not like the inflated city real-estate market. As far as I know, the house is sound. Nothing that a few repairs and a fresh coat of paint won't fix. To tell you the truth, people find the house too small. Plus, that house has been on the market for a few years now and that doesn't help either.”
The agent was beginning to sound a bit too eager and Gillian wondered if this was a good idea after all.
“Thanks for all this information Mr. Garrett. I think I'll hire a house inspector and get back to you,” replied Gillian.
“No problem! Call me anytime!”
By the end of the week the house inspector assured her that the house was basically sound.
The following Monday, Gillian e-mailed Mr. Garrett and put in a ridiculously low counter-offer which, to her amazement, was accepted. She never met the owners; all business was carried out through a lawyer in Port Williams. Meanwhile, she received a decent offer on her city house, which she saw as a very good sign. “When you're on the right path, the Universe helps you along.” She had read that somewhere.
It was mid-June by the time all the documentation for both houses was complete. The first thing she did was hire a contractor to redo the roof of her new house, rebuild the veranda, and replace all the windows. Then she spent days sorting through the things she had held on to since Mary Ellen was a baby. When moving day came, two of her friends, Melanie and Donna, offered to spend their weekend helping her settle in. By Sunday evening, they were sitting on her new veranda at sunset, sharing a huge pizza and beer.
Later that night, Gillian took her cat on a tour of the house. When they came to the small bedroom, she was surprised when Fanny snarled and jumped out of her arms into the hallway.
The weeks after moving in flew by. In spite of having no immediate neighbours, Gillian didn't feel lonely. She sometimes stopped to chat with Joanne, the local post mistress, or with the cheery young woman at the local diner. Everyone was friendly and curious about her situation, wondering why she had moved there and how she was getting along at the old MacLeod place. In fact, after a while, it irked her to be constantly asked how she was getting along. She was perfectly capable of running a house on her own!
Still, it did occur to her that she might be vulnerable. She found an animal shelter in Wolfville, the university town five kilometres from her new home. What a heart-breaking experience! Some dogs ran up and licked her fingers while others huddled in the back of their cages, too scared or indifferent to bother. A lab-shepherd mix caught Gillian's eye the first time she walked around the compound. At first, the mid-sized female stayed back but on the second turn she approached and poked her nose through the wire cage. She looked up with sad eyes and a sorrowful whine. Gillian decided to call her Maggie.
The following day, after all the formalities were done, Gillian drove home wondering how Maggie would get along with Fanny Fluff. Maggie dashed into the house, sniffing everywhere, and as soon as the cat saw this big animal, she scrambled upstairs. Gillian knew she'd find her hiding under her bed. Fanny Fluff never went into the small bedroom. In spite of this unpromising start, Gillian was confident the two animals would eventually settle into a peaceful co-existence.
By the end of July, the field near the house was covered with brown-eyed Susans. Gillian chose a few colours for the upstairs area and painted her bedroom. That night she slept in the other bedroom as the paint in her own room hadn’t dried. The smaller bedroom still had the blue and white wallpaper from ages ago, yellowing and peeling in some places. In spite of the balmy weather, it felt damp and draughty. She pulled out an extra blanket and settled in bed with her current book. She must have fallen asleep while reading. Hours later, she awoke with a start. The glow from the bare light bulb broke into the shattered pieces of her dream. She reached out for her journal.
2:15 a.m., July 12
Another weird dream. Lying face-up on a hard surface in complete darkness. No fear just sharp awareness. Felt this presence floating over me, its face inches from mine. Overwhelming sadness. Started sobbing deep inside myself. Woke up. What is this?
Gillian couldn't stay in that room another minute. She felt a presence following her, breathing with her, observing her. She was wide awake now, so she wen
t downstairs to make herself a cup of herbal tea and curled up on the sofa to await the dawn. She was soon jolted out of a fitful sleep by Fanny Fluff jumping on her chest and purring loudly, demanding her breakfast. Gillian spent the morning putting furniture back into her bedroom. She had planned to paint the blue bedroom but after her nightmare, she was reluctant to enter it. She decided to install some wainscoting in the bathroom and paint the other rooms instead.
When she tired of working on the house, Gillian explored the area, often biking along the flat country roads that ran parallel to North Mountain.
By mid- August the house was almost done. She should have felt deeply satisfied. Instead she was feeling restless.
8 a.m., Aug. 23
Something's wrong. Where has all my energy gone? I guess I should expect a slump after all those changes. The constant drizzle this past week isn't helping. I'm really noticing how alone I am. The weird thing is, I wake up each morning with a feeling of foreboding. I'm trying to remember my dreams but all I feel is that I've been in a dark place. Most mornings I wake up feeling chilly, with a knot in my stomach. Maybe I was too hasty in making such a drastic move to the country. I should have just taken a leave of absence and stayed in my house for a while. If this constant rain would finally let up, I could get out, go biking, do something.
The unusually cold, damp weather continued. Her daily walks with Maggie helped a bit.
She tried to be out of the house as often as possible, often going to the local coffee shop for breakfast in the hopes of alleviating this growing feeling of unease. It was the evenings she particularly dreaded.
She didn't watch much television so she filled her evenings with DVD movies and surfing the Net. Invariably, she fell asleep as soon as it became dark, only to sleep fitfully, not remembering much of what she dreamt. She often went downstairs in the middle of the night to sleep on the couch, hoping the change would help settle her. She felt she needed to visit her therapist or, at the very least, get some sleeping pills.
By now she was looking forward to her friend's visit. Donna said she couldn't make it but Melanie confirmed for the Labour Day weekend. Gillian was overjoyed to see her again. Although Melanie was a petite brunette, she had the energy of 10 people.
“I love the country feel of this place,” said Melanie. “How old is the house?”
“I was told it was built around 1940,” answered Gillian. “The previous owners redid the cedar shingles.”
“Maybe we can find a few antiques in Annapolis Royal,” called Melanie as she headed downstairs.
In no time, both women were sipping wine and cooking up a storm while singing along to “The Country and Western Show” on the local radio station. What a relief to finally have laughter in her house!
That night, Melanie refused Gillian's offer to sleep in her room. Instead, she settled herself in the blue bedroom. Gillian hadn't confided any of her misgivings to her friend as she still wasn't sure what was going on. She fell asleep wondering if Melanie would sleep well. She hoped this would settle whether something was really happening or if she was actually starting to lose it.
As it turned out, Melanie was a very light sleeper and had the habit of sleeping while listening to sounds of nature on her MP3 player. The music was still on when she woke the next morning. She felt rested but wondered why she was so chilly; it was a warm summer day.
“How did you sleep?” asked Gillian at breakfast.
“I slept like a log,” replied Melanie. “I was wondering what you’ll do with Fanny and Maggie while we're gone?”
“Oh, I've arranged to board Maggie at a kennel and Fanny Fluff can manage on her own for a couple of days.”
“Any plans for our trip tomorrow?”
“Well, I thought we'd have lunch at a cute Austrian cafe on the waterfront. Their pastry is to die for! Then we could visit ‘The Habitation’. It's the site of Champlain's second French settlement in Canada.”
“Sounds great!” replied Melanie.
Their weekend visit was all too brief. The two women shared long walks and wonderful meals accompanied by non-stop talking and laughter. Gillian found a set of antique dishes in one of the quaint shops. Later that evening, Melanie surprised her with a beautiful old pitcher.
“For those wonderful wild flowers,” she said. “Thank you for a great weekend!”
“No, thank you for all the help,” replied Gillian.
They returned on Labour Day and picked up Maggie at the kennel before going to the house. Fanny Fluff was anxiously waiting at the front door, happy to have them back.
Gillian hadn't felt so good in weeks. A weight had lifted along with the bad weather. Re-energized, she decided to finally paint the small bedroom. She boldly decided to sleep in the blue room and put to rest the uneasiness that had grown over the past few weeks. After all, Melanie had slept very well in that room!
The air still felt unusually chilly. However, Gillian, determined to prove her fears groundless, simply pulled out a blanket from the bottom drawer of the bureau. She quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.
The hours passed. Unseen, a bank of dark stormy clouds slowly covered the bright starry sky. Maggie was sleeping curled up on the rug in Gillian's room. Fanny Fluff had cautiously crept into the blue room and was blissfully asleep near Gillian's head. Suddenly, Fanny was wide awake. The fur on the back of her neck rose as she anxiously peered into the darkness. Her eyes scanned the shadowy room and a slow growl rose from deep in her throat.
Gillian was enjoying a dreamless sleep. Suddenly, she awoke. She was no longer in the small bedroom but in a completely black space. She couldn't move. She felt suspended in a darkness so thick it was almost a physical presence. The total absence of light gradually sucked the air from around her and she began to gasp for breath. She woke up in a cold sweat. This time she was truly awake.
She tried to turn on the bedside lamp but it wouldn't work. She heard the howling wind and rain outside her window and figured there was a power outage. Trembling with fear, she pulled the top blanket around her shoulders and felt her way to the bathroom where she kept an emergency flashlight on the counter. She flicked on the light and to her horror there was another face, a young woman's face, superimposed over her own pale reflection. The young woman's long bushy hair formed an ashen halo around her head, white tendrils floating into the surrounding darkness.
“Oh my God!” shrieked Gillian. She tore off the blanket and hurtled down the stairs. She quickly found her raincoat and boots, grabbed her keys, and was out of the house in a flash.
Mercifully, the car started on the first turn. As she sped down the narrow country road toward Wolfville, she was shaking so hard she could hardly keep the car on the road. “Oh my God! Oh My God!” she kept repeating as she sped into the inky darkness. Her headlights picked out the looming silhouettes of blowing trees and the darker hulks of farmhouses and barns. She sobbed with relief when she saw a tiny line of street lights shining in the distance. The houses were all dark, even the service station was closed. Gillian headed for Tim Horton’s which she knew was open all night long.
The two women behind the counter were astonished to see someone arrive at 2 a.m. in the middle of the worst storm of the summer. Surprise gave way to alarm when they noticed Gillian's dishevelled appearance, her wild eyes, and her wet pyjama legs dripping onto the floor.
“Good Lord!” cried the older woman. “What's going on? Are you all right dear?”
Gillian slumped in a chair and wept. It took her a few minutes to calm down. In bits and pieces she told the two concerned women about the draughty room, the dreams, and the vision in the mirror. The women exchanged knowing glances.
“Well dear, no one wanted to say so before. Didn't want to scare you in case nothing happened, but that house was empty for a reason. You see, 20 years ago there was a family living there. They had a teenage daughter. Nice folks. Well, one day the couple came back from the movies to find the house empty. At first they thought their daug
hter had biked to a friend's house. By midnight, they started phoning around. The girl never came back. It was the talk of the town for months. The police found absolutely no clues. The TV was still on, a snack half eaten on the coffee table. What a sin! The parents moved away of course....”
“It must be her ghost haunting my house,” sniffled Gillian. “Maybe she's trying to tell me something. I can't take any more of this!”
The next day, Gillian moved out. She stayed in the city for a while with Melanie, trying to decide what to do next. What a mess! She'd retired, sold her home, and now her new house probably wouldn't sell with a story like that going around! She tried to fill her days as best she could but she was worried sick. She decided to put the house up for sale. What else could she do?
After a few weeks, she moved into a furnished apartment and tried to get her life back in order. By early November, no one had showed any interest in the house. She decided it was time to clear her things out. Once again, Melanie offered to help.
They drove to Port Williams on a Friday evening and stayed at the local B&B. By Sunday afternoon most of the packing was done and Melanie went to town to get a pizza. Gillian decided to take Maggie for a walk following a path along the river. It was a grey day with the promise of snow in the air. Gillian walked briskly, her hands deep in her pockets, the events of the past few months going round and round in her mind.
It took a while to notice that Maggie was gone. Gillian whistled for her. Presently, Maggie came bounding out of the woods but soon disappeared in the underbrush. That darn dog, she thought, making her way into the dense bushes. She once again heard Maggie come crashing through the undergrowth. Gillian finally spotted her dog peeking at her from behind a stand of small spruce trees. She seemed to have something in her mouth but darted back into the forest before Gillian could reach her. This time, Gillian kept up with her until they came to a small clearing. Maggie was furiously digging into a pile of fallen leaves. Gillian quickly came up intending to grab her collar. What she saw, though, made her recoil in horror.
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