Belle Manor Haunting

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “By whom? Her husband?”

  Josephine nodded.

  “Why didn’t he let you see her?” Addison asked.

  “He placed all the blame on my daughter. He said she couldn’t handle my optimism. She didn’t like me pushing her to be someone she had no interest in being anymore. He apologized and said it wasn’t personal. She had refused to see everyone.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  She shook her head. “Not a single word. I told him he needed to let me in. I wanted to hear it from her own lips.”

  “And did he allow you inside?”

  “Not that day, no. He showed me to the door and suggested I give her time to heal on her own. He was sure she’d come around, and when she did, he promised to call me. I stayed away for a few weeks, stewing over it. I called a few times, and my calls went unanswered. Then I decided I needed to do something.”

  “What did you do?” Addison asked.

  “I went to the police. I thought they would help me. It was a mistake. They said there was nothing they could do, which was a polite way of saying there was nothing they would do. Lawrence Belle was the most influential man in the city. No one went against him, and no one questioned him. Not back then.”

  Addison thought of Amara Jane. So young. So fragile. So innocent. She couldn’t imagine not being part of her life.

  “What did you do when the police refused to help you?” Addison asked.

  “Two months came and went. I still hadn’t heard from her, and I’d had enough. One night I dressed in black from head to toe and drove to this gate we’re standing in front of now. I parked my car and walked the rest of the way. My plan was to slip inside and get my daughter. I made it to the front door before Lawrence caught me. I thought he’d send me away again. To my surprise, he invited me in.”

  It was an interesting turn of events.

  “Then what happened?”

  “Lawrence woke Cecilia and sent me in to see her. She asked for a glass of water. He brought it to her and then said he’d leave us alone for a few minutes to chat.”

  “How was she?” Addison asked.

  “The best word I can think of to describe her behavior is bizarre. She wasn’t herself. At first, I assumed she was still in a dark place. Now, I’m not so sure. She’d changed so much in a short period of time. I questioned her about it, and she shrugged it off. She said she was tired because she never slept. Even if it had been true, a lack of sleep wasn’t the only thing that bothered me.”

  “What else did you notice?”

  “She was pale, as white as the sheets on her bed, and she seemed confused about who I was when I first entered the room. I didn’t understand it. I did most of the talking, and she offered a slight nod here and there. At times, she’d string together a garbled sentence, and I noticed her speech was slurred. It was hard to understand what she was saying.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The only thing I could do. I told her I loved her. I said I was there for her. I suggested she might feel better if she left the manor for a time and came to live with me. Before I left, I asked her to consider my proposal. She said she would. I knew Lawrence would never go for it, not even for a short time. The next day, I made an appointment with a lawyer to see if I could petition the court to have her released into my care.”

  It was a risky move, and Addison admired Josephine’s grit and desire to do what needed to be done to protect her daughter.

  “Did her husband know of your intentions?” Addison asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe so, not unless he was eavesdropping. I never said a word to him.”

  “What did the lawyer say?”

  “Right before we were scheduled to meet, I stopped off at the grocery store. Ten minutes later, I died.”

  “How old were you when it happened?”

  “Fifty-eight.”

  “Any prior health problems?”

  She shook her head. “Not a single one.”

  It could have been a coincidence. She could have had a sudden heart attack, which led to her death, or Addison had just figured out something Josephine hadn’t yet.

  “What happened after you spoke to your daughter that night?” Addison asked. “Did you see Lawrence again before you left?”

  She nodded. “He made me a cup of tea. We sat down together in the parlor, and he told me it was hard to see Cecilia suffer like she had. He apologized for not letting me visit sooner and said he had honored her wishes to be alone. He walked me to the door, thanked me for stopping by, and invited me to return the next day.”

  It seemed nice, too nice, all other things considered.

  Addison didn’t buy it.

  “I have a theory about what happened to you, what really happened, and why you’re still here, trapped between this life and the next. I don’t believe Sara is the only reason.”

  Josephine tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’ve just told you what happened.”

  “You told me what you know. I believe there are things you don’t know.”

  “Such as?”

  “It’s possible the tea Lawrence gave you was a slow release poison that didn’t take effect until the next morning.”

  She reeled back in shock. “You think so?”

  “I do. You’re bouncing back and forth between this life and the next. Like Sara, your death may be unresolved. They may even be connected.”

  Josephine took a moment to let it sink in. “Let’s say you’re right. What happens now?”

  “Now I find the truth.”

  Addison returned home to find a ratty brown box sitting on top of the dining room table. It contained items relating to the car crash. Lia had dropped it by earlier, texting Addison to say she’d been given permission to look through it since the case was so old, and it hadn’t been touched in decades. Addison grabbed the box’s lid, but before she lifted it, Amara Jane stirred in the next room. Addison released the lid and backed away. The box could wait. Caring for her daughter could not.

  Addison took Amara Jane into her arms, gave her a gentle kiss, and sat back on the chair, rocking her sweet child back to sleep again. She thought of Sara and how young she’d been when she’d lost her life—far too young to be ripped away from her mother.

  Once Amara Jane was sleeping again, Addison placed her into the bassinet and then slid into bed beside it. Luke rolled over, produced a sleepy smile, and rubbed Addison’s arm. He mumbled a question about the time. Addison said it was past midnight, and he nodded, turning to his side to doze off again. She snuggled in next to him and closed her eyes. It had been a long, tiresome day. Sleep should have been effortless.

  It wasn’t.

  A faint glow radiated from the crack beneath the bedroom door, pulsing off and on like a siren.

  How strange.

  Addison’s evening ritual included walking through each room of the house, making sure the doors were locked and the lights were switched off before she retired to bed. Tonight had been no different. So where was the light coming from? She tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to rouse her two sleeping beauties, and stepped into the hallway. Glancing around, she located the source of the light. It came from the main level of the house. She descended the stairs, pausing when she reached the bottom.

  If all the lights had been out, it was possible they had an intruder.

  For a moment, she considered backing up the stairs and waking Luke.

  She didn’t.

  She crouched down and surveyed the main floor of the house. The living room was dark. The hallway was dark. The kitchen was not. She crept to the corner dividing the living room and the kitchen and backed against the wall.

  “Hello?” she whispered. “Is someone there?”

  She was met with silence.

  “If someone is there, you are trespassing, and I am armed. Step out so I can see you.”

  By armed, she was referring to the only viable weapon she’d seen before
she headed out of the bedroom—a fork resting on a plate on Luke’s bedside table.

  “Is anyone there?” Addison asked. “Last chance to show yourself.”

  The house remained quiet.

  Addison took a deep breath and poked part of her head around the corner. The source of the light was in plain sight, sitting where she’d left it on the table. It was the box, and it appeared to be illuminated from the inside.

  Earlier, when Addison touched the box, she’d felt a slight rush of energy. It seemed the box had awakened. When she placed her hands on the lid, she’d breathed new life into a pile of old relics which had sat on a shelf in a room, growing old beneath a blanket of dust.

  Addison lifted the lid and peered inside the box. Sitting at the top was an item she recognized—the teddy bear Josephine had given to Sara. She grabbed the bear and inspected it, the stains she’d noticed before becoming obvious now. The stains were dried blood.

  Addison set the bear to the side and kept digging. Next she pulled out a purse belonging to Scarlett. Inside was a pack of cigarettes, a hairbrush, several sticks of gum, and a pair of Led Zeppelin tickets. The box also contained a shirt and skirt and a small, rolled-up blanket. Beneath the blanket, sitting at the bottom of the box, was a gold, heart-shaped locket.

  The locket was glowing.

  Addison reached for the locket and opened it, hoping the inside would reveal something—a lock of hair, or even better, a portrait. To her dismay, she found nothing but a tiny black-and-white fragment, a remainder of a photo perhaps that had once been pressed into one of the locket’s halves. Addison slipped the thin, delicate chain onto her hand, closed her fingers over the locket in her palm, and chanted a passage she’d read in the book of enchantments:

  Secrets locked up nice and tight.

  Show me the memories you contain tonight.

  Addison blinked and found herself in a forest. She looked up, eyeing the brightness of the full moon. Unsure which way to go, or if she should head in any direction at all, she waited for the forest to come alive, hoping it would reveal its connection to the locket.

  A twig snapped beneath Addison’s feet. It made a sharp, popping noise. Addison jumped then sucked in a lungful of air and breathed, calming herself.

  You’re fine.

  This isn’t real.

  It’s a memory.

  It’s just a ...

  In the distance the sound of footsteps approached, light and fast, followed by a woman’s desperate pleads.

  “Stop it!” the woman cried. “Leave me alone! Go away!”

  The woman’s voice was staggered and anxious. Addison searched the forest, trying to locate her. Seeing nothing, Addison raced toward the sound of the woman’s voice. She ran into a clearing, and the woman appeared before her, brushing through Addison’s shoulder as she ran past and crouched behind a tall oak tree.

  Addison looked the woman over. She was young, early twenties, she guessed. She was barefoot, her left leg bleeding from a nasty gash just below her knee. Her long, blond hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders, and the gown she wore was familiar. Addison had seen it before on the woman staring down at her from a window at Belle Manor.

  An ominous feeling of danger flooded Addison’s mind.

  Addison shouted, “Hey! I don’t know why you’re running, but you must keep going. You can’t stay there. You’re not safe.”

  But her words were of no use here.

  She was in the past.

  The forewarning offered would not change what was to come.

  A man pushed through the clearing and looked around. He was tall and muscular and had large, broad shoulders. He wore a blue satin shirt, hip-hugging bell-bottoms, and scuffed, white dress shoes. He appeared bold and confident, and he had the slightest hint of a smile on his face—a smile that seemed to say he enjoyed the hunt, the round of hide-and-seek they were having. He clicked a flashlight on and waved it in front of him, scanning for movement between the trees.

  “You’ve stopped running, which means you must be around here somewhere,” he said. “Where are you, Libby?”

  When his words were met with silence, he kept moving, swatting branches out of his way as he poked his head around each one of the trees.

  “Now, now,” he said. “Which one would you be hiding behind? You know, it’s just a matter of time before I find you. There’s no escaping me out here. I’ll look all night. Why don’t you make it easy on both of us? Come out, and we can talk. I know you’re scared, but it’s not what you think. I swear. Won’t you let me explain? I’m a reasonable man. You can trust me, darlin’.”

  The man was anything but trustworthy and reasonable, and he was close to Libby’s hiding spot. Too close. Three more trees and he’d find her.

  Desperate for an alternate option, Libby poked her head out to gauge the distance between where she was and where else she could go. Her eyes darted around, searching for a place, any place. There wasn’t one. She was trapped. Still, she grasped the urgency to do something, to try at least, and when the man turned his head, she darted out from behind the tree and sprinted in the opposite direction.

  The man laughed. “Aww, there you are. I knew you couldn’t have gone far. Not in these woods, and not without shoes.”

  In seconds, he was close enough for her to feel him breathing down her neck. He reached out and snatched her dressing gown. Clutching it in his hands, he yanked it back, breaking the gold locket dangling from her neck in the process. He grabbed the locket off the soil and shoved it into the pocket of his pants. Libby jerked around like a feral cat, resolute in her attempt to free herself from his grip. It aggravated the man even more. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and spun her around to face him.

  Libby wasn’t going anywhere.

  The realization hit her, and her eyes flooded with tears.

  “Aww, stop it, now,” he said. “Don’t turn on the waterworks. Are you trying to make me feel bad? It didn’t need to be like this, you know. You were the one lurking around in the dark. If you would have left well enough alone, none of this would be happening. Guess it’s fair to say you did this to yourself.”

  “I ... didn’t ... do anything,” she cried. “You did! You’re a disgusting, awful person!”

  “I’m an awful person? You seemed to have a different impression of me yesterday when you batted those long eyelashes at me every time you walked by. You knew what you were doing. You knew I had a wife.”

  “Whatever you saw, it’s not what you think. And I wasn’t flirting.”

  The man tossed his head back and laughed. “Now, if that’s not the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. I’m not sure what you’d call it, then.”

  “I was only trying to be nice.”

  He nodded. “You sure were. I didn’t mind. I thought it was cute.”

  The man leaned forward, forcing his lips against hers. “Mmm. Your lips taste like cherry pie.”

  “Stop it!”

  “Why? It’s just you and me now. We can do whatever we like out here.”

  “I wouldn’t like to do anything with you.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure why you deny it. You wanted it before. I could tell.”

  “Let me go. Please!”

  He leaned back and said, “Huh,” like he hadn’t thought through his next move yet.

  Or had he?

  “Why don’t you, uhh ... get on your knees, I guess.” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  “On your knees. Now.”

  She refused, and he pressed his hands onto her shoulders, forcing her down.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Rape me?”

  He tossed his head back and howled with laughter.

  “It’s not funny!” she said.

  “Rape you? Are you crazy? I can’t believe you’d suggest it. I’ve never forced anyone to have sex, and I’m not about to start today.”

  “What are you doing, then?” she asked.

  “Close your eyes
. I don’t like the idea of you looking at me.”

  He pulled the flashlight out of his pocket and swung his arm all the way back. Libby glanced up just in time to see the wind-up before the pitch.

  “No, please,” she begged. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise. You don’t need to do this. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  When he didn’t respond, Libby stared up at him and screamed.

  He bent down, staring into her face as he said, “Scream all you want, honey. It won’t make any difference now.”

  Addison sat at the kitchen table, holding Amara Jane in her arms. Caught up in the thoughts swirling around her brain, she replayed the previous night’s events inside her head.

  Luke entered the room, looked at Addison, and then at the locket sitting on the table.

  He raised a brow. “Where’d you get that?”

  “It was in the box Lia brought over yesterday,” Addison said.

  “You’re looking at it like it’s a hot potato.”

  “In a way, it is, but I’ve touched it already.”

  “And did something happen?”

  “It took me for an unexpected ride.”

  Luke pulled out a chair and sat down, and Addison detailed the experience she’d had with Libby. When she finished, he picked up the locket and held it out in front of him.

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to be glowing now,” he said. “Not unless you see something I don’t.”

  Addison shook her head. “It already showed me what I was meant to see. I think it had a picture or two inside of it at one time, but there’s nothing in it now. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how it went from being around Libby’s neck, to the mysterious man’s pocket, and then inside the car on the day of the crash.”

  “What are you going to do?” Luke asked.

  Addison shrugged. “Try to figure out the identity of the man and woman I saw last night, I guess. When I first met Sara, I thought I’d help her move on and that was it, but nothing is easy when it comes to spirits, is it? Sara isn’t the only one relying on me to uncover the truth. There are others caught up in all of this too.”