by A M Nixon
The Lady and The hound
DIVINATION
A.M.Nixon
Copyright © April 2019 A.M.Nixon
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except as permitted by U.S. copyright law and for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Published by JLN Guardian Angel
Edited in part by S. Ferguson via Fiverr Pro
Book Cover Design by Lance Buckley
Chapter One
The cottage
Something was crawling, meandering carelessly around her legs. With her head banging and her stomach doing the familiar churn, she knew she’d have to run for the bathroom soon. The hangover prevented her from jumping out of bed to see what the crawly things were. The sensation finally got the better of her and she rose, slowly, so as not to disturb her head or her stomach and forced herself to pull back the covers. No surprise; a few cockroaches were scrambling to get out from under the abyss of darkness and flesh. Mary scooped them out, eggs and all, and lit the morning cigarette, knowing full well it was going to cause the bathroom run, but she didn’t care.
Now that she was up, she decided to listen to her messages. It was her mother—again. Mary had resigned herself to living at the motel. She was getting used to the over-powering smell of Lysol, as if the motel staff shampooed the carpet with it. None of that mattered now anyway.
The decision was made, and she would finally take matters into her own hands. Leaving this world for something better, she hoped. Running out of options does that to people. She could have went to live with her mother in Chicago, but she was an east coast girl. She needed mountains and pine trees. Mary had been living at the motel for months, and she knew her mother hated it. “Why can’t you come stay with me?” her mother would say. The breakup was devastating, and her mother was concerned for her well-being. Mary knew her mother loved her, and the decision she was about to make would break her heart.
Why would anyone choose to live in a motel if they had options? Living in the flatlands of Illinois, was definitely not an option as far as she was concerned. Losing everything eliminates the choices and one has to make do with what the state can provide for a nominal fee. She put her phone on the bedside table, engrossed in the saga of two roaches scaling the motel wall. One from above and one from below, heading towards each other for an important meeting. She reached into the cooler and plucked out a semi-cold Coors Light from the night before. She re-made the bed, not sure why, since she didn’t care how they found her body, being in a roach trap of a motel was enough to give a bad impression. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She no longer wanted her existence—it was played out. She chose all the wrong roads; every time, and it was going to end. Sitting on the edge of the motel bed “Well it’s now or never lady.” Talking out loud to herself, as she swallowed a handful of 30s and chased them with the Coors Light.
Then the premonition came.
ǂ
Mary hesitated in making the call to her mother. Would she have to explain anything to her? No—she thought better of it. The best thing to do for now was to find out what was so urgent her mother had to leave five messages asking her to call back, but not giving any details.
Her mother answered on the first ring. “You know how I’ve hated that you were still at the motel after all this time? Well, I’ve found a solution.” Her mother was waiting for a response from Mary. All she wanted was for her to get on with it. She wasn’t feeling so good at the moment. “Yes, and.” Mary said.
“Since you won’t come to Chicago, I thought the cottage would be a good idea. Uncle Walter was living in it for a while, but he recently moved to an estate in Baltimore. It’s a family property of which I’m part owner, so I called him and told him I want you to live there. Do you remember when I told you about him?” Her mother said.
“Barely. I think there were a few old photos, but I can’t picture them right now.”
“That’s because he went to the UK to live with relatives when he was a boy, I’m not sure why. He’s only been back the last ten years or so. But we’ve never been close. Our only interactions have been about the family properties. I do know he was a late-in-life-baby, so he’s only eight years older than me. The two of you should get along fine.” Her mother said.
Mary tried to contain herself when her mother talked about the cottage. She needed more information—what it looked like and where it was—to see if it matched her premonition. With her senses on high alert, and her heart racing, she had to know if the premonition was playing out. The fact that there was a cottage in the dream and her mother calls her and mentions one? It had to be more than coincidence, but Mary wouldn’t dare get her hopes up. The let downs were devastating and coming all too frequently to trust anything, anymore.
“It’s in the mountains of West Virginia and good 40 minutes from the nearest grocery store, if you could call it that. It’s more of a mom and pop kind of place. It’s a cute, quaint little town and I’m sure you’ll like it there. Oh, and the best part - I told him Dickie ditched you and you were between jobs and broke. He could sympathize, since his ex-wife left him for someone much younger too.” Her mother said.
Mary put her phone on mute and shook it in the air. While she was thankful her mother secured the cottage for her, she wished she had left her personal issues out of it, she didn’t want to make a bad impression.
Mary knew it was a lucky break and one she desperately needed. She didn’t have to worry about rent as long as she promised to be at the cottage full time and watch over the place. She didn’t tell her mother about the emergency room and having her stomach pumped a few hours earlier. Why worry her for nothing? The premonition came true, which meant, for once, her life might be changing for the better. “You can pick up the keys from his home in Baltimore on your way to West Virginia.” Her mother said.
Mary prepared to leave the motel. She shook out all of her clothes looking for hitchhikers of the roach variety, still she put everything in plastic bags to go right into the wash. She packed what few belongings she had, everything else was in storage. She could finally get out from under that bill. She had some money left from a how-to book she wrote that got some attention. Who knew people liked to use pendulum’s. It worked out for her, adding enough to the bank account to keep her in the luxury of the motel. Leaving the room and going back to a real home again, her thoughts went to the last words Dickie said to her.
“I’m in love with someone else… I want a real life.”
Mary stood in their foyer stunned, searching for a proper comeback to what he said. What? A real life? Mary thought.
“What does that mean exactly, a real life? You were the one who left me out, kept your friends separate, and never took me anywhere, and I kept you from having a real life?” She said, as her body was about to collapse. He said nothing. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, and that told her he was holding something back.
“I don’t love you anymore. You need to go, preferably by tomorrow.” He said.
Something was welling up inside Mary’s chest, then moved to her throat, about to choke her. She knew there was more. When he said ‘real life’ she knew he meant kids. She wasn’t capable and he seemed fine with it, but apparently he wasn’t.
She shook off the memory and looked around the room for anything she missed. She loaded her SUV and refused to look back.
Mary arrived at Uncle Walters mansion, wringing
her hands all the way to his door. Since her premonition was playing out, she now had the opportunity to get her babies back. Her beloved pets she had to give up because she was living in a motel. She needed the cottage, not only to have a decent place to live but to get Flea, Chance and Kit back with her again. That, and she was trying to make an impression to have a roof over her head that didn’t smell like Lysol.
She knocked on the door and a butler, she assumed, greeted her. Her mother never mentioned how rich Uncle Walter was. She expected a large house, but not a mansion and a butler.
“I’m here to see my Uncle Walter.” Mary said. Her uncle yelled from somewhere in the home before the butler could speak.
“Come back to the library please.” Uncle Walter said. The butler walked her to the entrance of the library. Her uncle was standing at the library wall, looking intently at an old book. Peering over his reading glasses, he introduced himself as her great Uncle Walter.
“Well, I’m sure your mother told you about my situation.” Uncle Walter said.
“Yes, She did. She doesn’t spare the details. As I’m sure she told you about my situation.” She knew exactly what he was going through.
“It’s all good. At least you know what it’s like. I may have to lean on you a time or two, when it gets to be too much.” Uncle Walter said.
He carried himself as someone seasoned at relationship matters, but his commiserating with her caught her off guard. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one.
“Anytime. You have my number now, so use it whenever you need talk.” Mary said.
Uncle Walter sat on one of the leather wing chairs and motioned for Mary to sit across from him.
“The cottage has been in the family for over a century and built over an older cabin which predates it by a century. I couldn’t bear to have my ex-wife move in and try to claim it as marital property when we all know it’s our families heritage. She always wanted the cottage. I’m glad you’ll be there to prevent that.” Uncle Walter said.
“I had no idea the Cottage existed until Mom called me. I’m looking forward to staying there.” She sincerely meant that. She was so close
“There are a few things you need to know because I won’t, in good conscience, let you live there without knowing in advance.”
Mary contemplated whether the arrangement was too good to be true. With her luck, there had to be a catch.
“The cottage has a mind of its own. Lights tend to flicker, and there are noises, some associated with the old cottage settling itself. You’ll have to get used to that. But the outside is something else altogether. There have been sightings of, well, things not of this world.” Uncle Walter said.
Mary remembered when she was a child, there were only 4 channels. The UHF channel never came in clearly, no matter how much foil you put on the antenna. Every Saturday night there was a creature feature and the host, with a deep raspy voice, mixed chemicals in beakers in a lab. She couldn’t see much through the white noise, which made it spookier. Watching Lon Chaney Jr and his depiction of the Wolfman in the woods, stalking prey through the fog, all made the scene more foreboding. She was hooked on the supernatural ever since. To Mary, the air of mystery surrounding the cottage didn’t trouble her like it would others. Knowing from her own experience, humans and their cruelty are worse than any creature, be it Bigfoot or an alien.
Now she knew why her intuition and premonitions were leading her to the cottage. If nothing else than to guide her to a spiritual place.
“Uncle Walter,” she started. “Oh, can I call you Uncle Walter?”
“By all means.”
“If you’re willing to let me stay at the cottage, I would love to. The stranger, the better as far as I’m concerned.”
He handed her the keys and a list of where she could find what she needed, and how to work the generator should the power go out. “The power goes in and out periodically, most of the electrical has been upgraded, but there may be a few glitches. Call me if you have a problem.” He said, handing her the book he’d been holding. It appeared antique and had an ornate leather binding.
“This is the story of our family, the property, and the lineage. It also contains a few tall tales passed down through the generations. I suggest you read it during the day. Some of the stories are quite unusual.”
Mary hoped she could handle the cottage and the unknown. “I’ll be fine, Uncle Walter, and I’ll call if I have any trouble,” She said, as she met his eyes. She knew no matter what happened she wouldn’t call. She wanted her babies back and needed the cottage to do it. No matter what lurked in the woods, she would find a way to deal with it. She gave him a hug as adrenaline rushed through her body. She wanted to jump up and down saying “YES!” but his butler was standing by the door as she left, so she had to contain herself.
It was a four hour drive from Baltimore to Old Gap, West Virginia. Mary opted for the scenic route, with nothing but graceful, layered Pines and Oaks, on a billion-year old mountain. She stopped at the tourist center once she arrived in West Virginia and picked up a map. She had her phone, but Uncle Walter warned her his property wasn’t on their database and she would need a map to get there once off the main interstate. Between the map and his handwritten instructions, she found the road leading to the road that led to the driveway. Peering out the window, there were a few large pillars made of stone on the mile long road. She figured whoever installed the road must have moved the stones there since they were aligned as if a construction crew had placed them with a crane.
Mary’s stomach fluttered as the cottage came into view. She was apprehensive but grateful to have a home again. She didn’t care how it might look inside. Given how old the building was, she expected to have issues. Flea, Chance and Kit, were her only comfort during the last few insane years of her relationship. She knew they would love living at the cottage. She didn’t want a stranger tending to their needs, one who was now living with her ex in the house she built. She had to get them back to feel some dignity again.
Ever since she left her old home, she refused to mention her ex by name. She chose a nick name that fit his personality and one he often used to describe others in an unflattering way. She decided on the name Dickie. She replaced his name with it in her phone to remind her. Every time Mary thinks of his nick name she starts to laugh, putting a little distance on the painful memories.
She stepped inside the cottage. It held it’s centuries old charm well, and she could appreciate her family had taken delicate care of it. It was spacious, with ten foot ceilings and raised panels on most of the walls. Settling into the cottage was easier than she thought it would be. Tarps covered most of the furniture, and all that was left to do was turn on the electricity and the water and flush out the lines that had been winterized. The cottage and the surrounding woods looked identical to her premonition, so she knew she was in the right place.
She turned on the television and found it wasn’t connected to cable or satellite, she would have to call to get that installed. She went upstairs to pick out what would be her bedroom. There were three to choose from, each a decent size, but one had its own bath, so it became hers. It didn’t hurt that it had a fireplace and a sky light. It also contained a large wardrobe, which must have been 200 years old. Mary could smell the cedar as soon as she entered the room.
She often pictured herself in an old house, with centuries old wood floors, creaking, uneven and worn. Now she was finally living it. It was as she had pictured her ideal home would be. A familiar antique shop smell mixed with old attic. The walls, floors and hearth were at least 100 years old, and it reminded her of her Grandad’s barn. He had antique cars and road signs, every kind of broken piece of wood furniture strewn about in piles, according to size and shape, waiting to be repaired. Old wooden coke crates that housed wood- handled hammers, screwdrivers and hand crank drills. The barn was Mary’s playground when no one wanted to play with her, a sanctuary of old interesting things for her amusement. The cotta
ge brought those memories back and made her feel at home.
There was a library on the main floor. The coffered ceilings first drew her attention. The craftsman must have spent a year working on the detail in every section. The fireplace looked to be original to the former cabin. It had stone columns with a large coat of arms carved into it. The fire screen was an intricate iron piece with a Spanish style. Mary imagined herself in front of it, reading, with her dogs piled on her feet on the couch, and her cat sleeping safely on the back of it. The books on the shelves looked like collector’s items, with elaborate bindings. Once she settled in, she would touch the pages of every one of them.
Mary made herself comfortable on the couch almost falling asleep as she opened the old family book Uncle Walter gave her. As she started to read the first few pages, the closet door opened. She knew it was the closet under the stairs because it had a handle on it that made a distinctive noise when the lever was pushed down. She waited, not wanting to get out from under the covers. The closet door closed, and the latch caught that time.
Paranormal investigations were one of Mary’s passions when she was younger. She would amaze her friends when she didn’t jump over every little noise when they did. She simply had no fear when it came to the spirit world, never knowing why. If it’s a spirit trying to get her attention, it’s going to have to do better than open the closet door before she got off the couch. She went back to reading, and it was several minutes before she had to deal with the closet door again. This time it opened and closed several times banging and shaking the wall. Mary threw the covers off, stomped to the closet and yanked it open. “If you’re trying to get my attention, all you’re doing is irritating me. I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Is that ok with you?” The lamp on the hallway table flickered. She assumed the flicker was answering in the affirmative. She wasn’t expecting a response to her question. She walked up to her room a little faster than normal, leaving all the lights on.