Carrie felt trapped. She didn’t know how or why she had come to feel this way but there was no other way to explain it. This was just the last dip in the emotional roller coaster that she had been riding these past few weeks. “I want us to get married,” he had said to her. “Right now, before another moment passes.” The words fell out of his mouth and hit her right in the gut like a TKO in the last round of a prize-winning fight. And perhaps that was for the best. After all, that was how Carrie and Jon had been getting along lately, like boxers in a match, circling around and around the ring, sparring off whenever they met.

“What does he want from life anyway?” Carrie said to herself, her voice quivering with emotion, as she traveled the familiar route from his house in the suburbs to her apartment in the center of one of the busiest cities on the East Coast. “We practically live together as it is. Why can’t it stay that way? Married! He wants to get married.” Carrie was so upset that she was unconscious of how badly she was driving.  Her car was all over the road, erratic, just like her emotions. She paid no attention to the white lines and the yellow lines; they went by in a blur. The flash of red and blue lights in here rearview mirror brought her back to reality and she pulled her car over to the side of the road.

Carrie reached for her wallet and instinctively rubbed her sleeve over her cheeks and her nose, trying to wipe away the traces of an emotional woman. It would do no good to be seen like this. Pushing the button to roll down the window, she wondered at how modern conveniences had changed the world and yet ironically the man she was in love with had old-fashioned ideals. “Is there a problem officer?”

“License and registration please ma’am.” The tall officer said without even looking in the window of the car. If he had he would have known her immediately. Carrie fished out her license and handed it to him. Officer Johnson took the license and immediately flipped out his ticket book. It was an extension of him, a natural flow. At any other time, Carrie might have stopped to write that little detail down. She was paid to notice things like that.

“Carridelle Stenson? That’s an unusual name Carridelle.” He said, as he looked it over.

“Most people call me Carrie,” she sighed as she was still trying to gain control of her emotions.

 If a passer-by had looked, they might have seen the proverbial light bulb go off over Officer Johnson’s head. He shined the flashlight in the car for the first time, taking stock of the driver he had pulled over.  “The Carrie Stenson? The author? Oh my wife reads all of your books.”

Great, thought Carrie, an adoring fan. Usually, Carrie would have loved to meet a faithful reader, but not this time, not now.

 “I have to confess, I read them too. I guess that’s okay though since they are romance and crime mysteries as well. You got a real knack for writing, but if the boys at the station knew I read your stuff, well I’d never hear the end of it. Hey ma’am, are you alright?” It took him a full five minutes to notice she was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. In another time and place she would have written that down too, so typical of the men in her stories, this guy would have made a good character.

Carrie was not one to divulge personal information, but the officer had caught her off guard. “Ma’am,” he repeated a little louder, “are you alright?”

Startled out of her reverie by his resonating voice she volunteered, “Married, he wants to get married.” Shaking her head, Carrie tried to relieve the stupefaction that she was experiencing.

“Oh, a lovers’ quarrel, eh? Well seems to me like you ought to be pretty good at figuring those out,” he said, and he winked at her, obviously proud of his own cleverness and witty repartee.

“You would think so wouldn’t you?” Carrie asked rhetorically, wanting to crawl under the seat and disappear from this trite banter between them. Couldn’t he write the ticket and leave? Couldn’t he see that she just wanted to be alone? Carrie wanted nothing more then to go home and sit in front of the fire in her cozy apartment and curl up with a great bottle of wine. She wanted to escape and get absolutely stinking drunk.

“Alright, little missy, I guess I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but only if I can get your autograph for my wife. She won’t believe this.”

Carrie cringed at his use of the term “little missy.” It was chauvinistic and pig-headed, much like Jon was being. Still, she wanted to get out of there and smiled politely as she signed the piece of paper Officer Johnson thrust in front of her. She gave him her autograph and a warm friendly smile to mask the overwhelming feelings she was experiencing.

“Well, that is really nice of you ma’am. Now do us all a favor and be a little more careful driving. These roads are dark at night, and we wouldn’t want one of our city’s finest authors injured out here.”

“I’ll be more careful, Officer Johnson, I promise.” Carrie gave him an innocent doe-eyed expression and smiled a slight smile. She was hoping that perhaps a little flattery and a little bit of honesty might get her home just a little quicker this evening. “I’ll pay more attention to this road here and it will be easy now that you have made me feel so comfortable. You are doing a wonderful job officer. I wonder if perhaps I might get out of here now. I hate to cut short any meeting with a fan, especially someone that leads such an intriguing life. But I do happen to have a terrible headache.” Carrie told the officer hoping that her flattery didn’t seem too overdone. She just wanted some privacy tonight. The officer let her go and she drove home without another problem.

When Carrie finally arrived home, there was a message on her machine. Predictably, it was from Jon.  She thought about ignoring it, but the incessant blinking light was driving her to distraction.

“Carrie, it is 1:30 and I am a little worried about you. You should have arrived home by now and I hope that you are there and not hurt somewhere. I hope that you are just sitting there ignoring this message but give me a call either way. I am really worried. You were so upset when you left. Please, call me I’ll wait up for you. I love you Carrie”
 

She thought about letting it go and making him suffer the way he made her suffer tonight. She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset with him, but she would ponder that in a moment.  She poured herself a large glass of wine and took a few sips before she picked up the phone and mechanically punched in Jon’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Oh Carrie, thank God you are okay.”

“I’m fine Jon.” She paused, weighing her options, the truth or just an omission. She settled for the truth; she owed him that much.  “I had a little run in with the law.”

“The law? Are you alright Carrie what happened?” Jon’s voice was rising in panic on the other end of the phone. He really did love her.

“I’m fine Jon the lovely officer just thought I was drunk. I wasn’t but I’m about to be.” Carrie giggled.

“Carrie, this is serious. I think we need to talk about us about, about our future, about what happened tonight.” Jon sounded so worried.  She almost gave in, but she couldn’t do it. Something was holding her back.

“Alright, Jon,” she said, her voice softening with the sweet tones of one in love, “we’ll talk, but not tonight. Swing by my place tomorrow after work. We’ll talk then.”

“Good night love,” he said.

“Good night.” Carrie said and replaced the phone in its cradle.

She needed to think, to think about what she could say to him to make him understand. Probably not the kind of thinking she should be doing while under the influence of alcohol, but what the hell? She stared restlessly around the room. She needed some ambience, something to start her mind working.

Carrie walked over to the fireplace, struck one of the long matches and watched it sizzle for a moment. She let the smell of sulfur wash over her. It was always one of her favorite scents. It reminded her of the best things in life: fireplaces, bonfires in autumn, romantic candlelight, and birthday wishes. Most people hated the smell of a lit match, but then Carrie wasn’t most people.

From the fireplace, she crossed the room to her stereo system. Browsing through her eclectic music collection, she finally settled on a compilation CD of her favorite R&B artists. It just fit her mood right then, melancholy. She put the CD in the drive and left it on repeat. Moving back to the kitchen, she scooped up her large bottle of white wine and went to curl up on the couch, to stare at the fire and contemplate where she was going in life. It served to put her in a reflective mood, and she thought back to when she first met Jon.

Chapter 2: Remembering When

LIVE: FOR ONE DAY ONLY

COME AND MEET

OUR CITY’S BEST AND BRIGHTEST

NEW AUTHOR:

CARRIE STENSON!

Carrie was so proud of that sign. Her parents had taken countless pictures of the sign: pictures of the sign with her beside it and then with them beside it, and then with each of them beside her. It was her very first book signing and she was so excited. After two years of struggling and writing occasional columns in the city’s newspaper, Carrie Stenson had become an overnight sensation and rocketed straight to the top of the New York Times’ Best Seller’s List. The smalltime bookstore in her neighborhood could not wait to have her in for a signing. It was quite a coup for them. Well, there was that and the fact that the owner of the bookstore, Lea, was one of her best friends.

They set up a table in the back of their store right by the cappuccino machines, where the book lovers came to browse the dust jackets of their books in the inviting and comfortable leather chairs before they opted to buy another treasure and take it home. If they were anything like Carrie, they would devour the words between the pages in one gulp. Here, in this spot, Carrie was sure to get noticed and she did.

Carrie patiently sat for hours chatting and signing books. It was 3:00 in the afternoon and she had been at it since ten that morning. Her parents had told everyone they knew, so proud they were of their only child’s greatest accomplishment thus far. Her hand hurt form signing so many books, and her face hurt from the endless smile that she had plastered across it, hoping against hope that if they remembered her she would be more then a one hit wonder in the literary world. By 4:00, the crowd had straggled off and she was ready to pack it in. Carefully packing up her briefcase and anything else she had brought with her, Carrie arose to leave and she almost did until she saw him.

Over top of the bookshelves, towering over them at a height of 6’3” stood a gorgeous blond-haired, blue-eyed man. He was glancing through the shelves in search of something in the self-help section and appeared not to notice her at all. Carrie sat back down and waited, eventually he would come over that way; at least she hoped he would. He never did, he picked out his selection and meandered over to the cash register without so much as a fleeting look in her direction. He made his purchase and left the store.

Carrie sighed and picked up her things. She headed over to Lea to say goodbye and patiently waited while her friend finished the phone call she was on.

“I’m going to pack it in and go home Lea. It’s been a long day.”

“Uh huh, but can you do me one teeny tiny favor on your way home?” Lea asked.

“Oh sure, but I am really tired, Lee.” Carrie said knowing full well she would not hesitate to do anything that Lea asked for her, especially after today.

“Okay, the guy that just left, he accidentally left his credit card here. His name is Jon Benton and he lives at 2^nd and Market. It’s right on your way home.”

Carrie laughed, Lea had eyes in the back of her head and almost as keen a sense of human emotion as Carrie herself possessed. Lea knew that Carrie was eying up that Adonis as soon as he walked in the store. And she began planning this little arranged meeting from that point on. Lea was determined that Carrie should find someone and be as lucky in love as she had been with her husband, Chris.

“Alright Lea, he’ll probably think I am some crazed stalker but I’ll take it to him.” Carrie said and taking the card and the address, with a smile and a wave, headed out the door and over the four blocks it would take to get to his apartment.

It was unlike Carrie to do something so completely spur of the moment, but whenever Lea was around, Carrie couldn’t help herself. They had the kind of friendship that always led to new adventures. So that was how Carrie found herself wandering down Market Street and planning what she would say to this man, if he was even at home, when the skies opened up and graced the city with one of those soaking rains that can have no other purpose besides cooling things off when the temperature was near 100 degrees as it was today.

Hurriedly running under the nearest doorway that gave her shelter, she waited the few minutes it took for the storm to pass before she continued on her way. Not that it mattered much; she already resembled a drowned rat. Finding Jon’s apartment was easy, getting up the courage to ring his bell was not.

As fate would have it though, as Carrie stepped up to the door to ring the bell, Jon opened it looking very agitated. His ash-blonde hair that had looked impeccable from afar was tousled as if he had gotten out of bed and forgotten to comb it. His glasses were askew and his hands and cheeks were streaked with grease. Distracted, he was not looking where he was going and not expecting anyone to be there, he walked out of his apartment and right into poor Carrie who promptly landed on the floor in the puddle she had created with her sopping wet clothes.

Jon Benton stared down at the woman in front of him for the very first time. He was so taken aback by the fact that there was anyone there that he nearly forgot to offer his assistance to the lady in distress. After an excruciatingly long moment, he offered her his hand.

Carrie arose and eyed the gentleman in front of her. She liked him; he had a sort of sexy Hugh Grant quality to him. She had the distinct impression he was very intelligent and yet for some reason, she pictured him to be very clumsy, kind of a jack of all trade but master of none.

Jon Benton stared at the little drowned waif of a girl standing in front of him for a full minute before he thought to introduce himself to her. The slick maneuvers and smooth words of other men were not second nature to him. He was honest and forthright and considered himself backwards in matters of love and yet he would have been very surprised to discover that that is exactly what women found irresistible about him. This girl in front of him was sweet. She wasn’t the brainy type that he met in most of his college classes. She wasn’t the sleazy type of girl he met sometimes in bars. She was somehow wholesome and pure, like she stepped off a country bus and yet was definitely all city. This girl was all of 5’3”. Her strawberry-blonde hair was tied back in what was once a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Several strands had escaped and she nervously tried to put them back in place, conscious of his scrutiny of her. Her eyes were a hue that he had never seen before, gray with specs of green and blue. Her mouth was playful and sweet, her lips parted in a friendly smile that he doubted she was even aware of, so lovely, so….

“Ummm, Mr. Benton?” Carrie’s greeting interrupted his reverie.

“Yes,” Jon said, awkwardly extended a greasy hand to her in greeting, and he was surprised when she took it without a second thought about getting her own hands dirty.

“Hi, I’m Carrie Stenson, I saw you at the book store earlier and I took your credit card. I mean, oh that came out all wrong…” Carrie stammered and seriously considered kicking herself for sounding like a stalker and a thief. He must think I am completely insane, she thought silently.

“Hmm, well then, shall I have you arrested or invite you in for a Coke and some dry clothes?” Jon laughed and Carrie’s face turned the prettiest shad of pink he had ever seen.

“I think I’ll take the Coke,” said Carrie, he heart skipping a little at the thought of sharing anything with this man.

Arm and arm they went into his apartment and Jon got her a Coke while she used the privacy of his bathroom to change into one of his large but dry t-shirts. It came to her knees. When she came out, she was self-conscious of her attire but Jon thought he had never seen anything lovelier.

“Here,” she said nervously as she handed him his credit card and took the Coke he offered her. “My friend owns that bookshop you were in today and since your place was on my way home she asked if I could bring your credit card to you. You left it there.”

“Ah, so that explains it, funny I could have sworn I got it back with the receipt but oh well, it brought you here and that is all that matters.” Jon said and Carrie reminded herself to thank Lea for her mischievous nature later.

“I was buying this book on plumbing, My sink seems to be clogged up and of course the landlord is off gallivanting somewhere so I thought I would try and fix it, only I am afraid I don’t know much about pipes. I was just about to give up and go and buy another book when you came around.”

“Hey, perhaps I can help. I know all about plumbing, my dad made sure to teach me all sorts of things like that so that when I went out on my own I would be able to handle it.” Carrie said as she jumped down off of her counter stool.

“A girl who knows plumbing, how can I go wrong? Let me show you the way.” Jon led her around the counter to his kitchen sink and watched in amazed silence as this wisp of a girl deftly removed the elbow trap at the base of the drain and unclogged it. He had no snake so she asked him for a wire coat hanger and ran it the length of the pipe, clearing it out.  Once reassembled, she turned on his water and the drain ran as smoothly as it did the day it was installed.

“Wow, that’s twice you rescued me if I weren’t so modern I could be offended. Can I make you dinner? I promise I am a much better cook then a plumber,” Jon said sheepishly.

“You would have to be, “ Carrie giggled, “But I really have to get home and do some research for my next book or my editor will have my head.” Jon looked crestfallen. “But I would love a rain check. Besides, I have to return your t-shirt.” His face brightened immeasurably and she thought how much he looked like a schoolboy, wearing his heart on his sleeve for the entire world to see. Carrie reached into the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a very damp but still readable business card.  “Ummm, when that dries, give me a call.” She said as she planted the card in his hand.

“It’s a date.” He said and walked her to the door. “Bye Carrie Stenson and thank you for returning my credit card and for unclogging my sink.”

“Anytime,” Carrie replied and shook his hand before turning down the hall and heading home.

Carrie did not do research that night, so happy was she by the events of the day. She turned on her CD player, loaded it up with Billy Joel, Elton John, John Fogarty, and Meatloaf, made herself a salad and let the music continue her state of buoyancy. All was right with the world and she did remember to stop and call Lea and thank her for her brashness.

She did manage to fit some research in the next day and was busily typing away on her computer when the phone rang. She was expecting her agent to call and had to think for a moment before she made the connection with the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello,” Carrie answered the phone in her usual cheerful manner.

“The card’s dried,” was all he said.

“Excuse me?”

“The business card you gave me is dry now and I want to collect on that date you promised me.” Jon said.

“Oh, Jon, hi,” her voice softened a little, “I thought you were my agent. I was expecting her to call me.”

“Oh, Sorry, I can call back if this is a bad time.”

“Oh no, oh sorry I was just in the middle of a chapter, I get so caught up when I am writing. I actually could use a break, my eyes are starting to get tired; I’ve been staring at this screen so long.”

“Well how about dinner then?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour then.”

“Alright, see you then.”

“Bye.”

Carrie looked at the clock, an hour just gave her enough time to save all of her work and get ready. She was in the process of doing that when the phone rang a second time.

“Hello?” she said hurriedly as she cradled the phone on one shoulder and gathered up her notes with the other, multitasking was not her strong suit.

“Hi,” Jon said sheepishly, “I forgot to ask where you live.”

Carrie gave him directions to her apartment, finished gathering up her things and started to get ready.  Jon arrived exactly an hour later, a bouquet full of daylilies in his hand. They were magnificent oranges, and yellows, and blushing reds; it looked as though he handed her a bouquet of fire, so vibrant were the colors.

“You seemed like a different kind of girl, so I figured I would go with the non-traditional.” Jon said and she took it as the compliment it was.

Jon took her to a little out of the way restaurant called “The Casbah.”  Not fitting with its name, it was a trendy little jazz club that served a great burger. They laughed and talked the whole night through, having dinner, desert and coffee. When they closed down the club, they walked along a nearby park and talked some more.

Carrie told Jon all about her novels. He discovered that she wrote romance-mystery novels that almost always portrayed bumbling cops and humorous cases. She took her stories right from the odd news that she found reported from around the world. The main characters in her books were a male and a female detective that were teamed together despite their obvious dislike for each other, creating of course the necessary sexual tension that makes a book a great seller. Her novels were all dedicated to her dad who, as a member of the city’s finest for many years, provided her with her inspiration.

Jon was still in college, on a full scholarship. He was studying architecture. He wanted to change the world one building at a time and as they walked along the city streets and he pointed out the magnificent details in the buildings around them, she believed he could do it. He had revolutionary ideas and they were interesting and intelligently founded.

Their relationship progressed from there, one date at a time. They laughed, they played and they had a great time. She took him to meet her parents, and they flew to London to meet his mom. His father was in the army and was stationed in England, but his mother chose to remain there after his father had passed away. Each parent greeted their child’s friend with open arms and loving acceptance. Everyone thought they would get married; everyone that is, including Jon.

And the question of why they shouldn’t get married was what Carrie was trying to answer now as she sat on her black leather sofa and stared at the fireplace. They were 28 years old.  When Jon was 26, his career had taken off. He was employed by one of the most well-known architecture firms in the city. He bought a beautiful house in the suburbs, the perfect spot, he had said for raising children. They had invested many hours refurbishing that house to its original state.  Her writing career was successful beyond her wildest imagination. They had been together for six years now. They spent weeks with each other at her apartment or his house. They were as in love today as they were when they first met. But there was something missing.

Carrie knew the problem did not lie within Jon but within her. She couldn’t for the life of her understand it. Her parents had been happily married for thirty years. They were each other’s best friends. Carrie had no reason to believe that marriages were failures. She was not from a dysfunctional family like most people, nor was Jon. They were two kids from a happily ever after life. Still there was something about settling down that bugged her. Maybe it was the lack of romance in her life, even when Jon proposed it was spur of the moment. But Carrie didn’t think that was it, if she was going to be totally honest with herself anyway. Missing romance had a little to do with it; excitement too but there was something more. Carrie felt like there was something else that she was meant to do but she didn’t know what it was. Something needed her. Right now what she needed most was sleep.

Chapter Three: The Decision

Carrie awoke the next morning and wondered what answer she would give Jon. No, that’s not right, she knew the answer she would give him but what she needed to figure out was how to explain why it was that she couldn’t marry him just yet. She didn’t know how to go about explaining that since she didn’t understand it herself. Well this was not the first time that the subject of marriage had some up in their lives. Carrie figured she could do what she always did, change the subject. There was one sure fire way to change a man’s mind about discussing anything, well at least one way to change Jon’s mind. It would take vamping a little and setting the mood right but if she did it well enough, all thoughts of marriage would be out of his head for a while at least.

Right before Jon was due to come over: she stoked the fire; lit candles all around the apartment and threw her George Michael’s and Prince CD’s on for atmosphere. She changed into his favorite outfit and dabbed on his favorite perfume. Carrie felt as ready as she could be to play the role of seductress, sure to drive any man to distraction, which was exactly what she was aiming for.

Jon rang the doorbell right on time. Carrie gave him her biggest come hither smile. Jon knew what she was about, he predicted that she would act this way, using her beautiful body as a tool designed to persuade him from discussing anything serious. He also vowed to himself that it was not going to work, not this time. He walked into the apartment and used all his willpower to fight the basic and instinctive urges that Carrie aroused in him.

“Can I get you a drink?” Carrie asked.

“A coke will be fine thanks.” Jon replied. He was not much of a drinker, never had been. He needed to be stone cold sober tonight, to have all his faculties about him.

Carrie poured his drink and sashayed across the room to turn the stereo up just a little. His eyes followed her every move, his heart beating a little more quickly, animal instincts in danger of prevailing and taking over his rational thought. There was no doubt that he loved her, wanted her, craved her and needed her. But Jon refused to have her on a part time basis any longer. His love was the real thing and he wanted hers in return.

She walked back to him, leaning in very close, she snaked her arm around his neck.  Jon surprised her by bringing his hand up and stopping her seductive moves abruptly.

“Not tonight, Carrie. Tonight we talk.” She pouted that sexy little pout that normally would have turned him into a puddle of mush. God, how was any human man supposed to resist a girl that could have this effect on him?

“Alright Jon, let’s sit down then.” Damn! It hadn’t worked this time. Now Carrie would have to talk to him to tell him the truth but how was she supposed to so that when she hadn’t quite figured out what the truth was?

“I want you to marry me Carrie.”

“I know, so you’ve said.”

“Carrie, this is serious. I love you. I always have. You are everything to me. But I don’t want you on a part time basis anymore. You are my best friend and I want you in my life every day. I want to wake with you in the morning and kiss your lips every night before we sleep.”

“But Jon, we have that already don’t we? Why can’t it continue like this? Why do things have to change?”

“Carrie it is time that we settled down. I want to start a family. Both of our parents want grandchildren someday soon. I don’t know what you are afraid of; marriage is the next natural step. We know that we love each other and we are happy together.  At least I think we are happy. Unless…unless,” Jon could hardly bring himself to think let alone say what he was feeling, “Unless you don’t love me the way I love you.”

“Jon! Of course I love you. You mean the world to me and I do want to marry you and have children some day, just not now. I know that this is going to sound crazy but I feel as though there is something else out there. There is someplace I am needed. Something is calling to me and I don’t know what it is. I feel it at night before I sleep. I feel it in my heart when the world is still and silent; when I can really, really listen. That’s when I hear it Jon and I can’t explain it to you, I wish I could. I just wish you would be a little more patient with me.”

“I am running out of patience Carridelle. I have been patient with you for six years. It is high time you figure out what the hell you want to do with your life! You are not a little girl anymore.” He was frustrated. He raised his voice to her without intending to. He was saying things that he didn’t mean. Why was that? Why was it that when you argued over something this volatile that you could never reign in on your emotions?

Carrie was taken aback by his abruptness. He was supposed to love her, why then did it sound so much like an ultimatum to her?

“Jon, if you love me you will wait for me while I figure out what it is that I am supposed to do. I know it sounds crazy but I know there is something else out there. Please, Jon, please wait for me.” She was begging him and she hated it. It sounded desperate even to her.

Jon sighed and got up off the couch,  “Alright Carrie, figure it out, but please don’t take too long. We have the rest of our lives to spend together, but I need you now. No, I want you now and I love you.”

“I love you too Jon.” It was then that she hatched her brilliant plan. It came to her like a bolt of lightning in a stormless sky. “I am going to go away for a while Jon. I need to work on my new book and I can’t do that here. There are too many things that will distract me. There is so much of you here and I need time to figure out who it is I am supposed to be or what it is that needs me.”

“Alright Carrie, I will wait for you to come back then. Take care of yourself. I love you.” Jon said as he kissed her on the lips, that soft, sweet kiss that was reminiscent of when they first met. But this time as he turned and headed for the door, Carrie swore she saw a lonely, solitary tear, slide down his cheek. And that one tear would be nothing compared to the hundreds that would fall on her pillow that night.

Chapter Four: With a Heavy Heart

Carrie managed to get some sleep that evening, after she wore herself out with all the tears she had cried. Her face showed the effects of last night’s emotional torment. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her cheeks were puffy and her nose would have made Rudolph glow with envy. Now what was left for her was to decide what to do. She couldn’t call her parents; they weren’t home. Carrie and Jon had sent them on a month long trip to Ireland to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary. They had only been gone a week.  Lea would have been no use, she would have only got angry to know that Carrie had turned him down. Lea loved Jon and thought he was perfect for her best friend. She always said that Jon made Carrie relive her childhood and put a smile on the face of one who had become so serious, so young. Jon’s mother would have been no help either. She just wouldn’t have understood. And outside of that, Carrie found herself virtually alone and that was a very scary place to be.

Carrie had never had the time to invoke any long-lasting friendships. Having a successful writing career was hard work. Research and publicity kept you on the run a lot of the time and then, there was a lot of time spent locked up in your apartment with your computer as your only friend.  Plus, after you sold one or two books to Hollywood, the money rolled in and with that came people out of the walls who claimed to know you; claimed that they owned a piece of your life, when they knew nothing about you at all. Carrie learned early to be distrustful of people. Her agent always told her she was too nice for her own good.

Her agent! That was who she would go to. Raymond would understand. Raymond was gay and his partner, Tomas and he had falling outs now and again. Raymond would understand her need to get away for a while. Plus, he would be so excited that she wanted to work on her book in a new atmosphere. He was always willing to help out one of his author’s so that they wouldn’t get stale. She called the office and made an appointment with his secretary at 11:30. She had a few hours to kill before then. So Carrie went upstairs to the loft and got a shower. She tried to let the hot water relax her muscles, but the tears fell unbidden from her eyes anyway. God, she was a mess.

“Get yourself together, Carridelle!” she said to her reflection as she toweled herself off.  “The world isn’t ready to see you this much of a mess. Besides, it isn’t as though you broke up with him. It is just a small hiatus until you figure out what is going on in this head of yours.” And then she laughed; talking to oneself is a sure sign of insanity. Oh well. Depressed, insane and unsure were a terrific combination.  

Carrie got dressed and studied herself in the mirror. On the outside, she looked calm, cool and collected, the picture of the young urban professional. But inside she was losing control. She looked at the clock, “Hmm 9:00, I still have two and a half hours to kill.” Carrie did what any red-blooded American girl does when trying to sort something out; she went shopping.

After traveling around to the local boutiques she rushed into Raymond’s office at near 11:30. Raymond was his usual flamboyant self, dressed in a black suit with a bright purple shirt and a thin white tie. No matter how much anyone tried to settle him down, he would just not stop being a little silly, a little daring, a little against the grain. Carrie loved that about him and he absolutely adored Carrie. Jon always said if Raymond wasn’t gay he would be jealous. It was that thought that brought her down as she made herself comfortable sitting down opposite the face of her dear friend.

Raymond finished up his phone call. “Okay come on spill. What is it darling?”

“Nothing Raymond, I’m just peachy! Don’t I look it?”

“Hmmm, let me see, my best author bounds into my office with bags full of things she probably already has two of in her wardrobe and is wearing sunglasses despite the oppressively cloudy day outside. I am thinking something is not right in your world sunshine!!”

“Jon and I had a fight last night.”

“Oh I see, it’s the love in your life! Of course it’s always the man isn’t it?”

Carrie had to laugh; you just couldn’t help it with Raymond. He had that way about him. “Jon wants me to marry him.”

“Oh congratulations sweetie! Do I get to be a bridesmaid?” Raymond asked then looked at her face, “Or is this not a good thing?”

“It’s a good thing, but I am not ready yet Ray. I can’t explain it I just feel there is something out there that I haven’t done yet. Something that needs me.”

“Oh sugar, he must be so upset right now and you, you poor thing. Well tell me, what can Raymond do to make you feel better?”

“Actually, I want to get away. I need to work on my new book anyway and I need time to myself to think.”

“Oooh, are you finally gonna hang up that tired old cop and break out of your shell?”

Carrie laughed. Raymond was always trying to get her to break out and write something new, something exciting. She doubted that her readers would appreciate it one little bit. They had grown accustomed to her romance detective novels and they would never accept anything else from her. Carrie always thought it was amazing that she could write romance novels, being so unfamiliar with it herself.

“Who knows, Raymond maybe this time I will.”

“I don’t believe it. You are going to drag out that tired old Officer McFuddy-Dudddy and his partner, the ice princess again I just know it. Don’t get my hopes up like that sunshine!”

“Hey! Well Officer McFuddy-Duddy has made us a lot of money.”

“PPPTTTTHHH! What’s money in the face of artistic integrity?”

It was an old argument but one Carrie knew well. They had it all of the time. “Well anyway, Raymond I need to get away, you wouldn’t know of any place a heart-broken girl could go do you?”

“Hmmm. As a matter of fact, I do think I can arrange something. I have a friend that has this house that he inherited. It is a huge house by the sea. No one has been in it for a while with the exception of the cleaners every month or so. He wants to put it up for sale so he needs someone to open it up. He wants it to give it a modern lived-in feel instead of a lonely stately old mansion. You up for it? All expenses paid!”

“By the sea you say?” Where at? It sounds like it could be fun. It’s probably full of interesting antiques and things.”

“It’s in Martha’s Vineyard, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near the Kennedy’s or I would be there myself.”

Carrie giggled, “As if Tomas would let you anywhere near those men.”

“He has nothing to be worried about he knows I am a one man woman…er…man. Besides I think all of them are straight, sigh, such a loss.”

Carrie laughed at him again. “Alright” she said, “I’m in. Just give me a day to get my things packed and notify all of the right people. If it wouldn’t be imposing too much, could you walk across the street and check on the apartment every once in a while when you are home? I’ll have my mail forwarded and all but I’d like to think it was looked after.”

“Oh honey, I’ll just use my binoculars like I usually do.” Raymond said with a wave of his hand and a wink.

Carrie gave him a quick hug and bolted out of the office to get her things ready and pack.

Chapter Five: The Trip of a Lifetime

Carrie got her things packed in record time. She called Lea and left a message on her machine. She strategically called her at home so that she would not have to explain to her too. She called her parents because she knew they would be checking in and didn’t want them to worry. And then she dialed Jon’s number. His work was unpredictable and she didn’t know where he would be today. His machine picked up and she waited patiently while she listened to his message, her heart giving a little flutter like it always did when she heard his voice.

“Jon, it’s me. I am sorry things went they way they did last night. I am going to go stay in Martha’s Vineyard for a while. I need some time. I need to do some soul searching. I am not sure if there is a phone there but I will take my cell, if you need or want to talk to me. I will be fine. Raymond has the address, it is a friend of his place and they need someone to watch over it for a while. I guess that’s all I have time to say before I run out of time on this machine so I will just say I love you and please wait for me.”

Carrie was sobbing by the time she hung up the phone. It was not an easy call to make, swallowing your pride had to be the worst thing you had to do in this world. At least, it felt like it at that moment.

She surveyed her room and all she had packed. “I think I have everything, and what I forgot I can buy there. Well here goes nothing.” She picked up her bags and walked out the door making sure it was locked behind her. Carrie wondered why she felt like she was stepping out into the unforeseen.

She stopped at Raymond’s office. He was out to lunch, but his secretary had the keys and the map for her. It wouldn’t be a long drive to Massachusetts. Carrie couldn’t wait to get there and explore! Her father, being a Civil War buff, had instilled in her a love of history and a love of treasure hunting. She liked to go to old houses and take a tour. She loved to search for antiques and revel in the glory of a real bargain. She loved to photograph battlefields and houses and all things historical. It was her hobby, one that she shared with her dad. It allowed them to spend time together.

As she predicted the drive to Massachusetts was not very long, three hours and many toll bridges later and she was rolling into town.  She passed the stately manors, the gated estates and let her excitement get the best of her. Carrie was no naïve schoolgirl, but still, an island full of celebrities was something to revel in. She was enjoying the scenery so much that she barely noticed the time and it wasn’t until her stomach let out a very loud rumble that she remembered that she had not eaten at all. Stopping in at a quaint little restaurant to give her eyes a rest and find her bearings, she sidled up to the counter and sat down.

“Can I help you dahling?” asked the waitress with her strong New England accent.

“What’s good?” Carrie asked, barely giving the menu a glance.

“Well, confidentially, if you want good, it ain’t on our menu, but the soup is pretty tasty and the burgers are a bit of all right.”

Carrie smiled at the buxom bleached-blonde woman standing before her as the waitress popped her gum and winked at her. Carrie wasn’t sure if it was done for affect or not, but the manners, the words, the easy-going personality of this particular person made her feel as though she had stepped back in time about fifty years. “You know I think I would love a burger with the works and a vanilla shake to go with it!”

The friendly waitress smiled at Carrie, “Well, now I like a girl who knows her mind and ain’t afraid to eat like a human! I’ll bring it right up.”

Carrie glanced around the room for the first time since walking in. There were a few couples at the tables around the room enjoying a quiet lunch together. At a few of the tables were seated business men, reveling in the beautiful day and lingering a little later at lunch then was necessary. An old man sat at the end of the counter opposite her and was intently staring at her. Carrie found his look a little disconcerting and abruptly turned away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the jukebox, obviously well used by the locals. It was a modern day version of the originals. Carrie hopped down off the stool and walked over to it, her eyes taking in the flashing lights and the buttons pressed more often then others. She searched for a song among the countless titles and finally settled on a vintage number about young lovers. The couples leaned in a little closer at their tables, the businessmen looked around in yearning, The old man seemed lost in memories and Carrie just shook her head. The power of a song was absolutely amazing.

Buffy, the waitress caught her attention with a wave of her hand. Carrie smiled and was more ravenous then she thought when she eyed the juicy burger and the delectable milkshake sitting on the counter. She returned to her seat and dove into her food like a kid in a candy store. Buffy talked her into a piece of homemade apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream after her lunch. Carrie thought she would bust at the seams but she couldn’t resist. It felt sinful, and it was an absolutely delectable treat to splurge on. The lunchtime crowd was waning and Buffy struck up a conversation with Carrie for lack of better things to do.

“I haven’t seen you around here before and your accent ain’t a bit like ours. Where are you from?”

Carrie smiled. She liked the easy-going nature. So much different then she would have found back home. “I am from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and today marks the first time I have been here.”

“Are you here for business, pleasure, searching for a hubby, or maybe getting over one?”

“Mostly business, a little vacation, and not really getting over a hubby, but trying to decide if I want one.”

“I knew I liked you girlie. You are an independent freethinking woman! Don’t go racing into a marriage like I did and regretting it later.”

“Oh I am sorry, you are not with your husband any longer?”

“Hell no honey! I ain’t with any of the five anymore.”

Carrie just shook her head in amazement and moved onto what she hoped would be a better topic. “Can you tell me where I could find Harbor’s Point Drive?”

“Why sure that’s really easy, in fact I’ll write it down for you so that you will be able to find it.”  And Carrie thanked Buffy as she disappeared into the kitchen in search of a pad of paper.

The old man was still sitting across from her and still staring. Carrie was starting to get really annoyed. The man was so creepy and silent. Finally she could not take it anymore, the frustrations of the past few days were boiling up inside of her.

“Can I help you old man?” She asked bluntly, trying to ward him off with her curtness.

He chuckled and shook his head. He put his money on the counter and started to walk away but turned as he got to the door. “It is no accident, they chose you,” was all he said as he turned and walked away.

Now what in the hell did he mean by that? Carrie thought to herself but had no more time to ponder as Buffy came back with the map. She thanked her, promised to come back and left a generous tip before exiting the restaurant. She got in her car and started on her brand new adventure.

Chapter Six: The House that Time Forgot

Martha’s Vineyard was full of side streets, large and small houses, inlets and bays, and miles and miles of beach. It would have been somewhat easy to get lost around there had Carrie not had Buffy’s wonderful directions.  Following them though made it easy for her to find the road that led to her home for the foreseeable future.

Carrie made a right at the top of Harbor Bay Drive. She noticed that there were few houses on this stretch of road. It seemed lonely, desolate, not much different then Carrie felt herself. Unlike the other places she had driven past there were dunes here that kept the beach obscured from the views of passersby. Judging by the size of the houses she was passing, she guessed that there was a reason for that. They looked like vacation homes of the literary and artsy rich and famous, wonderfully old and historical.  “Well at least it will afford me some privacy.” Carrie said to herself as she came to the end of the road where it turned and led up to a drive. The driveway was winding and long.  It was overgrown and unkempt as though it had remained untouched and unloved for years. “Well the first thing this guy needs to do is hire a groundskeeper. No wonder no one wants to list the place. Sheesh!” Carrie kept talking to herself, her words echoing in the car, keeping her company.

Her car pulled up to the house and Carrie got out, stretching her tired limbs. She looked around, taking in all of the details of her surroundings. The house was huge, more of a stately old mansion then a house. The outside was a cold, unfriendly, imposing stone texture. The manor stretched three stories high. The obvious first two stories and then a small window at the top that one could only presume was an attic. The turrets at either corner of the house fascinated Carrie. The rooms inside must be rounded she thought. Carrie walked around the other side of the house, she wanted to get her bearings and feel comfortable before she entered. The side of the house also faced the ocean but on this side there were no dunes to block the magnificent view. She looked up at what must have been the master bedroom. There were double French doors up on the second floor that opened to a Widow’s Walk. She rounded the back of the house but was unable to enter the fenced yard from that side. Knowing what she did about architecture from Jon, she would have guessed that the house was built in the 1820’s. It would have been an extravagant, expensive house for that time period and a little revolutionary in its style. Most houses that had turrets weren’t built till around 1890.  Feeling a little more comfortable, Carrie rounded back the other way and fished for the keys that Raymond had left for her. The old wooden door unlocked easily and gave willingly to her hesitant push.

Carrie started coughing as soon as she entered the vestibule. She was leaving footprints; so thick was the dust on the hardwood floors. “Hope the owner isn’t paying the cleaning crew by the hour.” Carrie said to herself as she got her bearings. The furniture was covered in sheets. The broom and the mop, which must belong to the cleaning people, were left lying next to the stairwell. The stairs were spiral and magnificent. The main hall and the sitting room immediately to her right, stretched all the way up to the second floor. Carrie’s first thought was how nice this place might look at Christmas time. She could easily see it full of life and a happy family, celebrating the season’s joys together.  “Well get it ready for opening he wants and get it ready I will.”  Carrie was excited by the prospect of exploring this house and all of its hidden treasures.

Bringing in her suitcases was naturally the first thing she did and carried them upstairs and set them in hallway, while she opened up the rooms. She started at the far end of the hall at the last room on the loft that overlooked the sitting room.  After unlocking it, the door was a little stubborn, as it had been warped by the harsh, punishing air of the sea. It finally gave and it opened to a nursery. It was beautiful and breathtaking. The walls were a blue, dark on the bottom and fading to a lighter shade of the same color as they drifted upwards to the ceiling, which was painted a brilliant yellow-orange. It gave you the impression that you were floating on the horizon at sunset and indeed the hand-carved antique crib was decorated with sailboats, as were the bureau and the rocking chair. Someone loved this baby very much. The room screamed of expectations; of hopes for the future. Carrie fell in love with it and couldn’t wait to open it up and clean it, restore it to the bright hues it must have been at one time.

The next room looked at though it belonged to an older boy…it too was blue but sparse. It lacked the hopeful qualities that the nursery possessed. It seemed, somehow subdued and muted. Carrie carefully uncovered the bed. It was an antique but nothing ornate. The bureau was covered in small soldiers and other little farm toys that were popular at that time. This place was an antique lovers haven.

The next room was the powder room; indoor plumbing was always a plus. Actually it appeared as thought the plumbing had been updated to look antique. It looked as the owner had been updating the place a little at a time. Whoever had been here before her to fix this place must not have had keys to the other rooms or was very trustworthy. The bathroom was spacious. It had a claw foot tub that was deep; the kind of bathtub that was made for long, hot bubble baths. Carrie couldn’t wait to try it out. The fixtures were all brass. There was a pedestal sink and a very elaborate mirror above that. The toilet was a modern replica of an antique with a pull-chain to flush it. At the back of the bathroom was another door. Carrie opened expecting to find a closet and instead found that it concealed a shower room. All the conveniences of the modern world with none of the look, Carrie thought to herself.

The last room on the floor was the master bedroom. Carrie opened it and hesitated somewhat, she felt as though she were trespassing on someone’s private property. It was as if by unlocking this door, she was going to open a whole other world. None of the other rooms felt like this but still, she had to sleep somewhere.  She picked up her suitcases and with one push opened the door to a completely magnificent room. It was three times the size of the other rooms at least. Putting her suitcases down she quickly lifted the sheet that covered the bed. It was like entering Pandora’s box; she was so excited.

Carrie stepped back repressing the oath that came naturally to her lips. This bed was magnificent. It was a grand four-poster cherry wood bed. The coverlet was an old-fashioned wedding ring quilt, the kind that intertwined the histories and lives of two families joining as one. It was slightly yellowed with age. The backboard of the bed was carved with family crests. On either side there were smaller one and in the middle was a large shield, a culmination of the two smaller. “It must have symbolized their marriage; the two becoming one. It is magnificent.” She said while admiring its breathtaking beauty. Carrie looked around the room at the other sheet-covered furniture. “Well, I might as well get started.” She said as she rummaged in her bag for some old clothes to start cleaning in.

It never occurred to Carrie to wonder why so many things had been left untouched by time; why there were so many things that had survived over one-hundred and fifty years; why some things should have been packed away and yet were left out, and alone. It never occurred to her that things in this part of the house were not dusty and yet had been covered all of the time. She didn’t even leave herself time to think as she dove into her work, putting worries and cares behind her. 

Chapter Seven: Mysteries Among the Ruins

It would have been easy to call Ronald and get a cleaning crew in here that actually worked. And the thought had crossed her mind to tell him that the man who owned the house was paying them for doing nothing but there was something about this place that compelled Carrie to clean it on her own. It was as though there was a magnet drawing her to it, calling her.

Looking over the house again after she was changed and refreshed, Carrie wondered where to start. It seemed logical to start with the kitchen and bath, as those would be the rooms she needed the most. The rest would just have to wait.  The kitchen was nicer then she had hoped. Like the bathroom, it too had all the modern conveniences hidden behind and around the antique décor. It was “new-old” style. Carrie, when motivated, could move pretty quickly and with the promised reward of the antiques and explorations, she got the kitchen and bathroom cleaned in record time. Luckily that cleaning crew had left their supplies about the house.

Invigorated by the physical activity, Carrie was on a natural high and ready to tackle the world if need be. She uncovered one by one the pieces of furniture in the first floor of the house; stopping at each to marvel at their beauty, lovingly polishing them to her a natural shine. Every antique held a story she was sure. If they could talk the tales they would tell. Nothing particularly caught her interest until she came into the dining room. After removing all of the covers, she found encased inside the china cabinet a wonderful set of antique dishes. Carrie studied them and guessed them to be about one hundred years old. They were beautiful and in the middle of them all, in a place of honor, was a shabby brown leather box. Curiosity piqued, Carrie reached for it, and immediately withdrew her hand as she again got the feeling that she was unlocking a secret. Feeling braver and needing to satisfy that urge to know all, she reached out for it again, taking it gently in her hands. Carrie noted every detail, not that there was much to note. It was a worn leather encased box and then she lifted the lid. The strained melody started playing, it was soft and sweet and romantic. “A music box,” Carrie said in wonderment and then nearly dropped the newfound treasure when the wind caused a door on the second floor to slam shut.

The slamming of the door upstairs was enough to make Carrie jump out of her skin. “Silly,” she said shaking it off, “it was just the wind. What has gotten into you?” Carefully placing the music box in its proper home, she looked around. Satisfied that everything on the first floor was clean and in place, she decided to go get something to eat before she tackled the second floor. She grabbed her keys and left the house heading for the local drive-thru window she passed on her way here today. She just wanted to get back as fast as she could, wanting and needing to explore more. She felt a kinship with the house, a bond, she felt in a word, at home.

Hamburger and soda in hand, she pulled back into the long driveway and up to the circular plot of land in front of the house. The sky was turning dark and gray; a storm was brewing. Carrie stepped out of the car and headed toward the house, walking as quickly as she could before the skies opened up and rained their wrath down on her. She took the keys that Ronald had given her and tried the lock, but before she opened the door, she heard a very soft tapping sound. Immediately she jerked her head up and looked toward the second floor, just in time to see a woman leaving the window of the master bedroom. Most people would run the other direction, but never one to lose her ground, Carrie ran into the house calling out. “Hello? Who’s in here? Who is it? There is no one but me allowed in this house! Whoever you are, come down here or I will call the police.” She heard nothing and running upstairs saw even less.

The windows to the widow’s walk were open when they had been shut. A search of the empty closets and under the beds proved fruitless. There was no one in the house but her. Carrie chalked up the sight of that woman, as a trick of a mind that was tired and hungry. She returned to the elegance of the dining room and ate her food that seemed in such contrast to the surroundings. After eating dinner, she found her head grow weary. It had been a very long day and she was a little lonely. She took her cell phone upstairs and decided to call Jon before she went to sleep.

Apprehensively, she dialed the familiar number and as was par she got his machine. Carrie punched in the code for their mailbox, “Hi Carrie, I knew you would call. You can leave a message if you like, but I won’t return the calls until you have your answer. We need to sort our feelings out and talking to each other every minute will not give us the time we need. Goodbye.”  Carrie hung up the phone feeling remote and distant from the man she had called. She also felt something else, irrevocably sad.  She lay in bed, crying; her sobs softly trailing away in the stillness of the night. The only comfort to be had was an unseen ghostly hand trailing along her arm, touching her hair. She saw nothing and felt nothing but suddenly and inexplicably comforted.

Chapter 8:Explorations and Introductions

Carrie awoke the next morning feeling invigorated. After arising, she unpacked her suitcase first thing as she had decided she was staying here for a while. Opening the drawers of the antique bureau, she started to place her t-shirts and shorts inside. When she opened up the top drawer to put away her necessities, she saw a piece of paper sticking out of the false wooden bottom. Carefully lifting up the old and delicate wood she retrieved two pieces of very worn and aged paper. They were torn clippings from a newspaper, The Herald.

The Herald

Former Governor William T. Hughes Dies Today

17^th of April, 1853

That was all the information that paper imparted and the second read:

The Herald

Former Governor William T. Hughes Last Will and Testament

States that all money go to his young nephew:

Stephen P. Murray 3^rd

The items were interesting because of their age, but more then that, Carrie felt as though they had been put there for a reason. She was meant to find them she was sure, but why? That was something for her to ponder as she made her way along her day. But she had to get a move on, there were men coming to check on the operation of the rambling home’s four fireplaces. Plus, she wanted to get a few moments to explore the town, purchase some groceries and see the beach. That was what she longed to do most today, let the sun kiss her body, the ocean waves glide over her toes. Heading downstairs, she took the pieces of paper with her, and carefully folding their well-worn creases together, she opened up the China cabinet and lifted out the music box. She let the soft strands of that wonderful song assail her senses before she carefully placed the pieces of paper inside. And this time when the door slammed, she didn’t jump.

The chimney sweeps got done their work in record time. Carrie had the most ridiculous urge to sing some songs from Mary Poppins as she waited for them to finish their labor. There was something about this place that made her feel silly and young, light-hearted and refreshed, almost as though not a care in the world affected her. When they were finished their cleaning, she paid them with the funds that Ronald had allotted her for repairs and left the house to go food shopping.

Once her chores in town were all finished. Carrie rushed back home to put the groceries away. There was a nice kind of anonymity in this town. If anyone recognized her, no one said. Of course, Martha’s Vineyard was full of celebrities. Carrie supposed people were used to respecting privacy.  After she was finished, her necessary things complete for the day, she jumped in her convertible and put the top down. She took a long, leisurely drive all around, losing her bearings now and then, but finding them in short time. She drove past the stately and magnificent vineyards, vowing to tour them another day. She drove through the town, making note of the library and the bookstore. Like most good writers, her thirst for knowledge and fantasy could never be completely quenched. She drove in and out and all around before finally ending up back at her temporary home and knowing exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her day. She took the stairs two at a time, raced into the bedroom and slipped into her shocking pink bathing suit that she normally reserved for Jon’s eyes. She felt decadent and deliciously free. She grabbed her towel and her notepad and headed out the back door to the beach. She ran when she got out there like a kid to a candy store. Feeling light as air and carefree. There was a taste in her mouth that she did not recognize. It was the sweet taste of freedom; like sampling a piece of nectarine straight off the vine, succulent and delicious. Your lips crave every drop of juice that falls; your tongue finds the dance delightful Her laughter bubbled up out of her throat and she was sure had anyone been around they would have thought her mad. But she was quite safely alone out here on this private strip of heaven.

Spreading out her towel, she lie down and let the sunrays warm her into complacency. She let all thoughts of Jon and her future slide out of her head. She let the world around her envelop her. The house and all of its creaks and quirks gave her a fortress to the back. It’s shadow falling inches from where she was almost as though it was keeping her in its reach, protecting her from anything that could harm her. Carrie laid there for a while before noticing anything was amiss. Her sharp senses, accustomed to looking for things out of the ordinary, sensed that someone was watching her. Looking around, at first she saw no one and then her eyes alit on a man sitting on a rocky dune that jutted out from the land to the left of her house. He was distant but she could feel his eyes upon her, studying her in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. It felt as though their eyes met and it startled Carrie. She knew in the back of her mind that it was impossible to make eye contact with anyone who was that far away. She could barely make out his features in the glare of the sun. But she knew that he was staring at her, just as sure as she knew he had seen her stare at him. The other thing that Carrie was sure of was that she was going to go talk to that man and tell him to get the hell off of the property he was trespassing on. While she was planning her indignant little speech, she was caught off guard by the shadow that overcame her. She turned only to come face to face with the intruder. And all of her speeches and resolve were lost when she glimpsed into the cool blue depths of those ice like eyes.

Carrie assessed the man standing in front of her and though he made no move toward her, she sensed danger emanating from him. It was as though she was not safe to stand within fifty yards of him. He was calling to some place inside of her that she was not even aware of and yet she knew it was an unbidden place where she was not permitted to go. She backed away carelessly getting caught in the beach towel strewn under her feet and as she stumbled he put out a hand to steady her. She stared at the place on her arm, the skin burning from his touch, heat radiating from it like there was pure electricity in his fingertips. He was unkempt. His face was dark with whiskers where no beard had fully formed. He wore his hair long and though it looked as though it had not been styled it seemed to suit him falling in dark curls to his shoulders. He wore a white dress shirt; a rather expensive one for a beachcomber and one that accented his broad chest and shoulders and he wore jeans with it, faded Levis that had seen better days. They were rolled up into cuffs and his feet were bare as if he had been walking in the ocean.  Carrie took all that in with one long glance. He was still staring at her, the corners of his mouth were caught up in a smile and those ice-blue eyes were twinkling with laughter at her obvious outrage.

“You are not allowed to be here sir,” Carrie said with righteous indignation. “This is private property.”

He smiled at her, an infuriating smile that made Carrie want to scream, “He told me you had come, but I had to see for myself.”

“Who told you I had come?”

“The old man of course, but I had to see for myself what a vision of loveliness you are.”  The stranger said to her and let lose a brilliant and sexy smile.

“I know no one from around here sir. I have no idea what man you are talking about. Does that line of yours work on many women?” Carrie asked trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. This was a crazy schoolgirl attraction to a stranger who might well be a madman. What was she thinking? What would Jon think of her?

“Hmm, well it’s not really a line, it was a statement, but to whether it works or not, I’ll let you know at the end of this conversation.”

Damn, but he was charming. “I have to ask you to leave, Mr…. eh… well whoever you are.  Mr. Murray does not take kindly to trespassers. I just have to call him and he will surely get the police to remove you.” Carrie fibbed, hoping it would work. She did not know the owner from a hole in the wall, but she figured the mention of his name and the police might be enough to remove this disturbing stranger from the property.

“Oh, so you know Mr. Murray do you?”

“Intimately,” she answered hoping he would just leave.

“Well then since you and Mr. Murray are such good friends I best be on my way. Wouldn’t want the embarrassment of police around here would I? But just one more thing before I go, would you do me the honor of having lunch with me someday…um…Ms…er…”

“My name is Carrie…Carrie Stenson. And perhaps one day when we know each other a little better Mr…. um…” Carrie watched his face for any glimmer of recognition of her name but if he knew her he didn’t show it.

“My friends call me Charlie.” He said and with that he walked back to his rock, grabbed his shoes and rambled on his way. Leaving Carrie to wonder about the stranger that had wandered into her life. Shaking off the feelings that the man set off in the pit of her stomach, she went for a swim, letting the ocean waves calm and soothe her.

Chapet Nine: The Hauntings

It was near sunset when Carrie finally finished swimming and dried off. As she gathered up her beach supplies, she glanced up at the house, wanting again to admire its magnificent architecture. She took in every detail and thought it felt like… well it felt like home. It was a crazy thought. There was no way Jon would ever move down here and yet she found herself wondering what it would cost to buy this beautiful place with all its charm and all of its ghosts. Ghosts? Why did she even think that? It was at that time that she realized while she was staring at that house, the vision of the young woman looking out at her from the Widow’s Walk had just been there again.  She did not feel any fear though. If anything, she felt more drawn to the house and the mysteries it held. She felt drawn to this young woman and she could not say why that was. She felt as though the girl was calling to her for help. Carrie was not afraid at all, and she firmly set her resolve to stay in the house and explore the history and embrace its shortcomings.

As she laid down for bed that night, Carrie fell into a deep sleep. A day of sunshine and swimming had left her on the verge of exhaustion. Never one to wake easily, Carrie was startled when she felt a cool breeze wash over her. She sat up suddenly, her eyes taking moments to adjust to the darkness. The window to the Widow’s Walk was open. She thought for a moment, and though the fuzziness of sleep still washed over her, remembered closing that door and locking it before retiring for the evening. It was strange, but then somewhere in the corner of her mind she imagined the girl in the window and drifted back to sleep feeling comforted and not the least bit afraid. She would not wake again until the rumblings began.

It was well near four in the morning when the first noise occurred and at first Carrie incorporated the sound into her dreams, the way one does the ringing of a telephone or the first arrogant reverberations of an alarm clock. The sounds became more urgent, more demanding, a creak here, a moan there. She woke startled, a cold sweat washing over her as she once again sat up in her bed and let her senses come alive. She listened closely, her eyes on the brink of tears; intent on hearing the noises again. With a little bit of patience, she was rewarded. Somewhere from the darkness of her room a cry was heard, a soft whisper of tears.  Then, as she listened more closely, the sounds of footsteps in the hall, a light tread, one of a woman. A door opening, creaking resonated through the lonely house. A child’s wail small and frightened, and then a mother’s calming hum, and the calming creaking motion of a rocking chair. The noises ceased.

Carrie was not frightened by the noises but intrigued. She laughed nervously. She thought of calling Jon and sharing this with him, even at four in the morning. But then she realized, his astute mind, his mathematical composure would not lend itself to such flights of fancy.  Lea would have been scared out of her wits. Her parents were not yet home, though her dad would have indulged her with his fascination. She thought of Charlie for some reason then, thinking that the stranger might perhaps enjoy this. Was he a kindred spirit? One who would enjoy the hunt of a ghost tale as much as Carrie herself did?  Carrie shook her head, shocked at her own thoughts of sharing anything with a man who was a total stranger to her. She was too tired to ponder the ramblings of her mind and laid her tousled mane back down upon the pillow, straining to hear another sound. Sighing with contentment that she was in the middle of her very own adventure, she fell back to sleep. The rumbling of something in the attic was but a faint whisper in her subconscious memory.

Chapter Ten: Of Rumblings in the Attic

Carrie awoke the next morning feeling oddly rested. She sat in bed and stretched her arms out over her head. Once the cobwebs of sleep had cleared her mind, the details of last night came flooding back to her with sudden clarity. “There was a ghost in this room.” She said it aloud to herself as if saying it aloud would make it seem more real, more like something that happened and not the strange nocturnal ramblings of someone clearly under too much strain. This house was haunted, and she was going to find out where and by whom.

After showering and changing, she left the house and headed into town for a tasty breakfast and some research into her current abode. Carrie found her way back to the diner and back to Buffy, her first acquaintance in the town.

“Well, heya doll. It’s so nice to see ya again. Did you come for more directions or are ya gonna eat some breakfast?”

“Hmmm Buffy I guess a little of both. But I’m so glad that I got here on your shift. I needed the comfort of a friendly face this morning.”

“My shift? Honey, I don’t ever go home,” she said cracking her gum sharply against the roof of her mouth and then chuckling softly. “Nothing to go home to, no where to go either so I come here. Least here I see a friendly face now and again.”

Carrie smiled, “I’m glad to be of service!” and she bowed an overdramatic bow to the delight of her newest friend.

“So how do you like our little town so fah?” Asked Buffy while placing Carrie’s order of a cheese omelet and home fries.

“I like it. The people here are wonderful.” Carrie said and grumbled in appreciation as she let the food slide down her throat.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about the library hours? I know this being small town and all….” Carrie’s voice trailed off as she sipped from her coffee cup.

“What use do you have for a library on vacation? I have half a mind not to tell you the hours. You’re meant to be relaxing!”

Carrie laughed, “You sound like my mom. Actually, I wanted to do some research on the house I’m staying at.”

“Where are you staying, if you don’t mind me asking.,” said Buffy as she saddled up on a stool with a huff and a puff, till she was sitting opposite Carrie.

“I’m staying at the Murray place; do you know it?”

Buffy cleared her throat and let out a small whistle before she answered, “How did you come to be mixed up with that old place? There are rumors that it’s haunted. Don’t take much stock in ghosts mind you, but there are them that say it is. I don’t think anyone around here knows the true story though. The Murrays don’t live here anymore and when they did it was pretty much kept a secret. Folks don’t gossip much around here, kinda gets boring now and again.”

Carrie was not about to tell Buffy that the place was indeed haunted. She didn’t think anyone would believe she saw a ghost and Carrie sincerely doubted that the no gossip clause was true. She certainly didn’t want a thousand reporters around her house.

“I was just wondering about the history of the place; the antiques are so wonderful inside I wanted to try and put a time period with them.” Carrie was surprised at how easy that fib fell out of her mouth.

“Well then I guess the library is a good place to start they will have all of the info you are looking for. I think it’s open till 4:00.”

“Perfect! How much do I owe you Buffy?”

“Aww sugar, consider it on the house, you made an old girl happy this morning with your company.”

“Thanks Buffy. I’ll stop by again and next time I’m buying.”

“Hmmm you planning on bringing in take out?”  Buffy asked as she hopped off her stool and chuckled. The cook in the back clanged his pans loud enough to wake the dead. He must have overheard her.

Carrie just smiled and shook her head is mock exasperation. She headed out of the diner and into the library to research the house that the Murrays built.

The town history section of the library was quite easy to find. Carrie poured over the books until she found what she was looking for. The first mention that she saw at all was the story of the death of the governor.

“Governor William T. Hughes was an established politician. He was governor of the state of South Carolina from the years 1840 until his sudden death in 1853. He was not a well-beloved figure in the history of the state. He was known to make more enemies than friends, but his wealth and political ties allowed him to gain his seat in office each term as unjust and unfair as that seemed to the other hopefuls. There were no immediate family members known at the time of his death.”

The next page of the book was missing. Carrie sighed; she hated stumbling blocks. So, she searched fruitlessly for more information. There was no more to be found save the architectural history of the mansion.  Carrie queried the librarian about more books concerning the local history. The librarian told her the most she could come up with were the birth and death records.

Carrie checked the genealogical archives, limited though they were. She found the record of William Hughes’ birth. There were records of his parents’ deaths and the record of his death. There was no mention of a sibling though. Something had to be missing as she had the headline that stated he left all the money to his nephew. At the library Carrie came up to nothing but dead ends. Her head was throbbing. She decided to go home and go for a swim to clear her mind.

Carrie approached the house apprehensively, though she claimed not to be afraid of the ghosts, there was something creepy about abiding with them.  She unlocked the front door and nearly fell on the hardwood when she stepped on an envelope that had been slipped inside.

Ms. Carridelle Stenson

Mr. and Mrs. Roger Reynolds

Request the honor of your presence at a small dinner party

Saturday evening, 8:00 pm

The 8^th of September 2001

Carrie had no clue who these people were. Inside the envelope was another note stating that the hosts were friends of Raymond’s and he had made sure that they invited her to their next social gathering. Well at any rate Carrie knew it would be fun. All of Raymond’s friends were flamboyant and outrageous. The boy just didn’t do anything toned down.

It wasn’t until Carrie got to the bedroom that she remembered the thumps in the attic from the evening before. She gulped with apprehension, but she knew she must ascend the stairs and see what message the ghost was trying to send to her. She grabbed a flashlight out of her nightstand and crept carefully up the attic stairs. She lifted the hatch and shone the flashlight tentatively around the room. It was dark, musty, and full of cobwebs. It had the distinctive odor of mothballs. They were so strong that Carrie nearly gagged. Sheets covered most things in the room except for a trunk.  There was little within arms reach of her and Carrie just didn’t trust the old floorboards to support her without a full inspection first. She shone the light around the room again. Only this time the beam alit on a small maroon book with gold lettering. It looked like a diary.  Carrie stretched out to reach it and feeling sure she got what she came for, she hurried quickly back down the stairs.

Once she was safely ensconced in her room again, Carrie drug out a captain’s chair to the widow’s walk and sat down to investigate the book further. The initials in the book were S.A.M.  Carrie ran her hands over the cold leather, touching the letters as if they were pure gold. She opened it gently. The pages were worn and yellowed. Scrawled across the first page in a child’s handwriting were the letters Susannah Anne Mundy.

Unfortunately, there were only a few entries in the book, few enough to read all in one sitting. Susannah was not a very loquacious child.  The few that she read were sad and sweet.

“Momma bought me this book for Christmas. She says I need to learn to use it just like a big girl does. She says that it will help me to better understand things, like a friend and a confidant. She says to try and write in it every night. But mamma knows I don’t have time. I have chores and responsibilities and fun to have with my friends. But I will give this a try since momma and I are the only family we got. And you just don’t turn your back on family. Least ways that’s what momma says.”

There were a few more pages of easy reports of childhood days, interesting to a historian perhaps but not what Carrie was sure she was supposed to find and then on the last page there it was.

A tearstained page, yellowed with time and fingered often at the corners read as follows:

“Momma died today so if it is all the same to you diary, I don’t think I will be writing in here anymore. It just won’t be the same without momma here to guide me to tell me what is right. The Hughes family that momma worked for said I am to live with them. I guess that’ll be okay. Mrs. Hughes wants me as a daughter, not as a servant she says. Hope she don’t want me to call her momma. I have only had one momma in all of my eight years. The Hughes are a rich family. And I know they will take care of me. But I don’t like that William no how. He is so strange. But I have to go now diary cause I am supposed to be a good girl and gather up my things but I can’t help but cry diary. I loved my momma, and I can’t help but feel that my heart is breaking in two.”

The odd thing was by the time that Carrie was done reading the page there were fresh tears on it. When she wiped her eyes, she didn’t even realize she had been crying.

Chapter Eleven: Parties and Truths

Carridelle put a call into Raymond the next morning. The night had passed uneventful; she must have found all of the things that the ghost needed her too. It was up to her to solve the next piece of the puzzle. She now knew how it came that William had a nephew. His sister was adopted.  She was thinking about all of that when Raymond picked up the phone.

“Carrie, my goddess of words, how are you darling?” was heard as Raymond’s familiar voice was propelled across the telephone wires.

“I am fine Ray and it is nice to hear you too.”

“I hope you are not working too hard darling? That new book of yours can wait but I want you back in one piece, physically and emotionally.”

“Actually, Ray, I have to admit I haven’t worked on it at all. Sorry. I am just been too preoccupied but I do have an idea for my latest book.”

“Oh do tell what is it?”

“I will never tell Ray, it’s for me to know and you to wonder about!”

“You tease, you are a beast.”

“Speaking of teases, how is Tomas?”

“Oh he is the same bitch he always is.” Ray said and laughed so that Carrie knew everything was all right. “And speaking of the men in our lives how is Jon? Have we heard from him?”

“No, I tried to call him but he is not accepting my phone calls till I have my answer. I don’t have that yet. I have no idea what I am going to do.”

“Well as Leo says,  My Heart Will Go On.”

“I don’t think he actually used that line in the movie Ray, “ Carrie said with a roll of her eyes. He just had this thing for that actor. His chances of ever meeting him were slim to nil and even if he had he had about as much chance of getting a date as an ice sculpture did at a party in hell.  The actor was straight as a pin.

“Anyway, Ray, I called to thank you for the invite to that party. I already told them I was going.”

“Oh good darling, that’s terrific. You are gonna love them, they are a lot of fun even for a straight couple.”

“Do you know what the dress code is by any chance? No one mentioned it.”

“Oh I am thinking dressy but casual. We are going to try and make it down there but I don’t know that we will. You know I never know Tomas’ schedule from one day to the next.”

“Alright, well give him my love. I hope to see you there.”

“Bye doll and thanks for checking in.”

Carrie prepared for the evening cautiously. It had been so long since she had been out it seemed. Her books did so well she didn’t even need release parties anymore. She and Jon had not thrown a party in forever and a day.  She wasn’t sure she even knew how to act in public anymore.

After browsing through her wardrobe, she selected a white cotton summer dress. It had a tight bodice and a flare bottom. She put on strappy sandals that had a slight heel and brushed her strawberry blond hair till it shone, pulled it back in a twist and drew down some tendrils till it framed her sun kissed face. When she studied her effect in the mirror she could swear she heard an appreciative tone of a male from behind. Carrie turned quickly around but all she was staring at was thin air.

Carridelle arrived at the Reynolds house at precisely 8:00 pm. And she was delighted to find that not only were the Reynolds as outrageous as she would have hoped they would be but there were also six other equally fun people to mingle with. Ray and Tomas were not there as of yet but she made herself quite at home speaking with burgeoning writers and people from all walks of life. Ray and Tomas came around 8:30 and shortly there after, Mrs. Reynolds was heard screaming happily in the hallway. Her high-pitched falsetto voice reverberated through the house with greetings and giggles. Carrie turned to see where all the commotion was coming from. Although temporarily blinded again by the site of Mrs. Reynolds, a rather large woman in a huge yellow sundress with bright green flowers on it, Carrie was surprised to see the gentleman from the beach, Charlie the drifter, following her.

“Oh Charlie we are soo glad you could make it, after all what is a party without Charlie, I always say. Don’t I dear?” Mrs. Reynolds directed the question to her husband and one was almost forced to laugh at the contrast between the two.

Mr. Reynolds was a short, thin, balding, anxious little man with an annoying habit of twisting his eyebrows. He spoke in what could only be described as a nervous twitter. “Yes, yes dear, you were saying that just today. What is a party without Charlie?”

Carrie being observant of all people, tried to maintain her composure as the brash and bold Mrs. Reynolds, drowned him out with her whirlwind of chatter. She almost lost it and laughed aloud when Charlie made direct eye contact with her. Instead of laughing she turned a nice bright red all the way to the roots of her hair. The color was becoming on her and did not go unnoticed by Charlie or Ray. Charlie’s eyes sparkled in amusement.

After everyone had greeted one another, the party got back to full swing and then settled down at dinnertime. Carrie was deliberately avoiding Charlie. He had a strange affect on her; an affect that she would rather not take the time to figure out. Alas, they were seated next to each other at the dinner table, a circumstance that Carrie assumed should be credited to the brazen matchmaking prowess of Bertha Reynolds, their kind hostess. It was awkward to say the least. Charlie seemed to be mocking her with every glance. It was as if he was daring her to get to know him; but Carrie refused to be baited.

After about fifteen minutes of conversation with Raymond and Tomas, CJ Reynolds turned his attention to the woman on his left hand side.

“Carrie, how are you enjoying Martha’s Vineyard?”

“Oh fine thank you CJ. I have not been to any of the wineries yet though I must make it a point to get to them soon. The town is lovely, the beach quiet and serene. I could not have picked a better vacation spot.”

“And how are you enjoying our Mr. Murray’s house?”

“Oh it is beautiful, so full of antiques and treasures. I wonder that he does not live in it himself.”

“Well, why don’t you ask him that yourself?” CJ asked with another twist of his eyebrow.

Carrie was in a tight spot. She could not tell CJ that she never met the man, but yet she claimed to Charlie that she knew him intimately. What could she say?

“Oh I uh…” she stumbled for the right words, “I umm…have not seen him as of late.”

Next to her Charlie sat twirling his pasta around and around his fork.

CJ chuckled and looked at her as though she had nine heads. “But he’s sitting right next to you dear, you’ve been talking to him all night.”

Carrie again blushed, a pretty color pink. She repressed the urge to turn around and face the man next to her. She also fought the desire to slap off the smirk that she was sure was on his face.

CJ sensed the tension he had created. “Oh perhaps you have not been properly introduced, Charlie Murray, Carridelle Stenson, famous authoress.”

Now she was forced to look at him, but to her surprise he did not laugh. He took the hand she extended in friendship and brought it to his lips. “It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance Ms. Stenson.”

“Thank you, but please call me Carrie.” She stared at him, her eyes full of wonder but she was clearly not yet ready to forgive him his crime of omission. Luckily the conversation turned to other things, and their awkwardness was forgotten until after dinner.

The party wondered on until the wee hours of the morning. Everyone was having a great time. Somewhere in the middle of it, Carrie stepped out into their backyard to catch a breath of fresh air. Charlie saw the opportunity to have a word with her and took it.

“Carrie…” he said ever so softly, his voice husky from a night of talking and sipping cocktails.

“Oh it’s you.”

“Will you accept my apologies?”

“For what making me feel like a fool? Letting me stand there and tell you that I knew Mr. Murray…er…you…. intimately when you were clearly aware that I did not. You think that I could forget that so easily? You lied to me.”

“No, I did not lie to you. In fact, you lied to me to get me off of the beach if I remember correctly. You were threatening me with imprisonment.”

“You could have told me who you were and I would have never said those things.”

“Of course you wouldn’t have and I could have told you but I did not want to embarrass you. By the time we got around to introductions you had already ordered me off of the property.”

Carrie just stared at him not knowing what to say next. His eyes drew her in again, this time not mocking her but they displayed a genuine interest in getting to know her. She wanted the same; to get to know this mystery man better. But damn those butterflies that danced in her stomach when she looked at him. He was one fine looking man.

Feeling the lull in the conversation, Charlie filled it easily. “Can we start over Carrie? I have to go now but how about I take you out for lunch?”

Carrie did not know what to answer. Did he mean a date? But she was practically engaged to Jon. She faltered, “I have a boyfriend…” God, she thought to herself, you sound like a dumb schoolgirl. What is the matter with you?

“I asked for a date not a courtship.” Charlie said the smirk back in his eyes again.

Taken aback, Carrie laughed, a genuine heartfelt laugh like she had not in ages. The sound was melodious like the tinkling of silver bells.

“Alright then beach comber, if you are sure you can afford it.”

It was Charlie’s turn to laugh. “Shall I call you?”

“Sure do you have the number?” She asked and then blushed at her obvious gaffe.

“I think I can rustle it up mi’lady.” He said and bowed to her, a theatrical bow. He tipped his imaginary hat and turned and walked away with Carrie laughing behind him.

As soon as he was out the door Raymond made his way over to her.

“Who’s the delicious new dish?”

“He’s Charlie Murray, hey wait I though he was a friend of yours.”

“Well, I fibbed. I never actually met him. He was a friend of a friend but you needed a place to go so… Forgive me for a little white lie. He is so cute.”

“He is Ray and hetero I think. Besides you have Tomas over there whatever would he think?”

“What would Jon think?” He countered.

“I don’t know.” Carrie answered him honestly. “And you know what Ray? After his phone message the other night I don’t think I care.”

Ray just stared at her in disbelief.

Chapter Twelve: Rainy Day Encounters

The day after the party dawned on a gray and gloomy sky. Rain was imminent. There would be no wading in the surf today and so it seemed the perfect day to ponder on the history of her ghostly friend. The spirit world had been quiet since the discovery of the diary. That was kind of a good thing because Carrie had not had a chance to sit down and figure out what it all meant.

With the helpless specter of that girl in mind, Carrie made her breakfast and poured herself a cup of hot tea.  She sat down in the rocking chair in the living room. She held the diary in one hand and the newspaper clippings in the other. She was staring at them hopelessly. It was like she was trying to put together the pieces of a large jigsaw puzzle; only half of the required elements were missing, including the picture on the lid. Carrie started to review what she knew. There were at least two, possibly three ghosts haunting the house. The first being of course the woman that she had seen; the second being the infant she had heard, and the third, which was just a possibility was the sound of the man’s murmur of appreciation that she was sure she heard the other day in the bedroom. She knew that the house was in someway related to the Governor. She knew the governor had a nephew that had inherited all of his money and she knew that the nephew’s mother’s name was Susannah, but beyond that she had no clue. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there but she must have dozed off. Carrie awoke to the sound of a soft sobbing in the bedroom upstairs.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Carridelle made it to the bedroom and of course found no one there. The sobbing however continued and Carrie followed the noise to the gray stillness of the widow’s walk. There was not a soul on the terrace but the sound echoed in the wind. . “Hello?” Carrie called, feeling foolish to be talking to the air and yet the weeping stopped momentarily. Carrie felt the air grow colder around her and instinctively she reached up to wrap a shawl around her, only she was not wearing one. “Hello?” she said again, not really expecting a response and she supposed had she heard one she would have went running out of the house as fast as she could. It was one thing to hear a ghost and to see one, but to converse with one would have been strange even for her. “Help me to help you whatever it is you need I will help.” The wind calmed to a warm gentle breeze.

The shrill ring of the telephone brought Carrie out of her reverie. She ran inside to answer it and was slightly breathless when she picked up the receiver.

The voice on the other end was decidedly masculine, smooth and sexy. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Jon?” Carrie asked. She was thrown off by the abruptness of the question and the lack of a greeting. She should have known better. The silence from the part of the caller let her know she was wrong.

“It’s Charlie,” he said trying to force a note of happiness into his voice and wondering why it was that another man’s name made his jaw go rigid and his fingers clench. Surprise took him when he recognized the emotion as jealousy. Damn he barely knew this girl.

“Hi Charlie, how are you?”

“I was calling to see if you were ready for dinner yet?”

“Hmm as I recall the offer was for lunch and I didn’t think you meant today.”

“Well I am switching it to dinner and as my grandma always said, “Never put off to tomorrow what you can enjoy today!”

“Well I can’t argue with the wisdom of your Grandmother I suppose. All right, I will go to dinner with you. Or I could rustle you up some dinner right here. I am not too horrible of a cook.”

“If it’s all the same to you I would rather take my chances with a restaurant.”

“Okay, though I think I should be offended.”

“Don’t be.” He chuckled. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Be ready.”

“Yes sir.” Carrie replied and laughed off the urge to mock a salute.

“See you then Carrie.” And then he disconnected.

Carrie hung up the phone feeling nervous and happy, too much like a teen getting ready for her first date. This was ludicrous. She was too old for this and this certainly was not a date! This was dinner, two adults getting to know each other as friends. It could not be any other way. She loved Jon.

Carrie changed into a pair of fawn colored silk slacks and a baby pink shirt. She left her hair hang down and studied her image in the mirror. It didn’t look bad at all. She looked like autumn, which was perfect as the warmth of summer was starting to surrender hesitantly to the whispering breezes of fall.

At precisely eight a honk of a car horn echoed through the house. What on earth was that? She thought to herself as she checked her appearance in the mirror for the hundredth time. Peering out the bay window through the heavy lace curtains, she saw Charlie sitting in his car waiting for her. Carrie thought of one of her favorite movies, “The Quiet Man.” Maureen O’Hara was quite angry with John Wayne and told him “I am not a woman to be honked at and come a runnin.” Well neither was Carrie, men who had class would come up to the door and knock. And she grabbed her purse and went out to the car to tell him just that.

She was surprised when she reached him that he was out of the car and holding the door open for her. It was a nice car too, a black Ford Expedition. She forgot her anger at his prior rudeness as he extended a hand with a single yellow rose.

“For you my lady,” he said with a bow toward her. And she graciously accepted the beautiful flower as she climbed into his car. Settling herself back in the luxury seats she inhaled the scent of the rose. It blossomed the sweet fragrant scent of romance. Charlie closed her door and with one glance of trepidation back at the house, which was unseen by Carrie, he walked as quickly as he could and hopped in the driver’s seat.

The drive to the restaurant was passed with normal pleasantries about the sudden change in the weather and about places around the island that she had yet to be. Charlie promised to be her official tour guide when he had the time. She wondered what he did that kept him so busy but thought she might reserve those questions for dinner. Presently they pulled off the main high way to a secluded road. It was long and winding and they were driving past what looked like acres of farmland though in the dark it was hard to make it out. Finally they pulled up to a wonderfully beautiful wooden building. It looked like an enormous log cabin with a candle in every window. Charlie had the satisfaction of hearing Carrie draw in a sharp breath of admiration.

“You like it?” he asked her.

“It is beautiful. What is this place?”

“It is D’Uva Incantevole. Which I think is loosely translated to mean the delightful grape. At least that is where my buddy was going when he named it. Sadly his Italian is lacking; but his restaurant is not. They have the best food and actually their wine is only known around here but is one of the best I have ever tried. Perhaps we can take a tour of it during the day sometime.”

“I would love too. I have not seen any of the wineries yet.”

Carrie’s eyes adjusted to the soft light of the candlelit tables on the inside of the building. The tables were placed far apart so that conversations were private. The spacious rooms made the place seem more romantic. The tables were covered in checkered tablecloths and each had a place setting for two. Soft Italian classical music was piped in through invisible speakers. The wait staff stood discreetly in the shadows, highly trained and waiting for the second you required their attention. Here and there couples sat together, breaking bread, talking and holding hands. It was not crowded but Carrie could tell the place did a thriving business. It was a place for romance not a place for friends getting to know one another. She made a mental note to remind Charlie of that later. The waiter led them to their table, “Good Evening Signore Murray. Shall I bring you a bottle of the house wine?”

“Yes thank you Antonio.”

“Hmm you must bring all of your friends here.” Carrie said and was surprised to feel the twinge of anger in her heart.

“I told you the owner and I are friends. But no, I only bring women here when I am interested in getting them in bed.” Charlie had the satisfaction of watching her  face blush with anger.

Carrie was ready to slap him and call it a night when she looked up into his eyes and realized they were mocking her yet again. Well she could give as good a she got she supposed, “Hmm so you don’t come here often then is what you are saying.”

Charlie laughed a wonderfully deep laugh that seemed out of place in this quiet romantic place. They reached for a slice of bread form the basket on the table, their fingers touching, lingering for moments longer then necessary.

After they placed their orders with Philippe, the headwaiter, they chatted easily.

“So tell me all there is to know about Carrie Stenson, the famous author.”

“Well, there is not much to it really. Let’s see I am the only child of two wonderful parents who are in Ireland right now celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary. I grew up in Philadelphia and went to Catholic school for most of my life. I attended Cornell and I am a writer.”

“What about your boyfriend?” He said with a negative tone. Charlie hated himself for feeling jealousy.

“Jon? Well he is an architect, a successful one. He lives in the suburbs. He is a wonderful man. We have been together for six years.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Problem? Who said there was a problem?” Asked Carrie paying way too much attention to buttering her bread then need be. She avoided eye contact with him fearing she would show her emotions that were hovering very close to the surface.

“Well, let’s see you are here and he is there. Now a beautiful girl is off on an island full of romance and history and he chooses to stay back home. You seem hesitant to share many details with me so I am thinking something is wrong with that picture.”

Carrie laughed and put up her hands in mock resistance to the inquisition.  “Alright, Alright I give! Jon asked me to marry him and yet I am not sure that it is the right time for me. I love him but I feel like, I don’t know, like something is wrong with the picture but I can’t put my finger on it.” Her thought train was making her nervous. She had to change the subject.

“But what about you? Tell me the secret life of the mysterious Charlie Murray.”

“Well alright but I don’t know how interesting I am. I am a cowboy, more or less. I own a ranch in Virginia, where my family hails from.  It is a working ranch complete with cattle and all but it is also a retreat for kids with disabilities. It gives them a chance to work up close with animals, ride the horses, milk the cattle, and feed the assorted animals on the farm. I hope it let’s them know that there is something they can accomplish.”

“Well you are a wonder Charlie. I would have never thought of you being a…” the steaming plate of fettuccine that the waiter set in front of her interrupted Carrie. “MMM… that smells delicious, Graci.” She said using all of her knowledge of the language in that one word.

“Graci Philippe.” Charlie said as well and poured some of the wine into his glass and hers. “So you didn’t think of me as…”

“Hmmm? Oh I never thought of you as being a cowboy.” But the images that arose to her mind of Charlie sitting aside a horse all sweaty from a day on a ranch were unbidden but not unwelcome. She found herself shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s great that the ranch works with kids with disabilities. How did you ever come into that?”

“Well I started to study education when I went to college. I wanted to be a special ed teacher, but I found that I missed the ranch too much. So I went back to it but I still wanted to do what I could to help.”

“Admirable. You said your family was from Virginia but I thought you owned the house that I am staying at.”

“Ahrrrmmm…” Charlie cleared his throat, “Yes I do own that house and another on this island. Seems I can’t stay away from here. Once I came to visit I fell in love with the place. So I spend any free time I have up here. There is no one to object anymore…” he stopped. He had said more then he intended to already.

“Another on the island? Why? That seems like such a waste. And who objects to you being here?”

“No one objects now,” he said choosing to tackle the second part of her question first. “My family objected to anyone being here. This place holds some bad memories that go way back. They even disowned my grandfather when he was drawn back here as well. But now he and I are all that is left of the family. But he suffers from sundown so he is in assisted living facilities here on the island.”

“I am sorry that you have lost so much of your family and sorry to hear about your grandfather. That must be hard on you.”

“Well he is sharp as a tack before the sun goes down, his wit is completely in place! Though he prophesies a bit now and again and tells some very strange tales. He is the reason I do not live in that house that you are in.”

“What? Why ever not? The place is fantastic.”

“Ever since I can remember my grandfather was terrified of that house. He would tell stories about it. About…. Oh never mind you’ll just laugh.”

Carrie reached out and touched his hand, “About ghosts?”

“You’ve seen them?”

Carrie laughed at him. He looked more like an excited schoolboy then a businessman and a cowboy. “Yes…well at least I have heard them. I think I may have seen one at the window…. Oh gosh I can’t believe I am telling you this. I can’t believe I would tell anyone. You must think I am crazy.”

“I don’t think you are crazy at all and I am one of the few who never thought my grandfather crazy. I have never been in the house and I doubt that I will ever go in there. I know it’s foolish of me to not go in but too many people have been terrified in there. The cleaning crews, the contractors… I had to pay some pretty heavy sums to get anyone to stay. I guess chains rattling and moans and groans tend to add a certain charm though.”

“It’s not like that at all you know.” Carrie said laughing at his ghostly description. “The woman is well, sad I think. I think she needs my help. Do you know any of the history of the place?”

“I know very little about it actually. I know that it was built for my great-great-great grandparents in 1843. But I only know that from the architectural records. There is some bad blood associated with that house. And when you come from a family of old Irish women you don’t brook suspicions.” Charlie laughed picturing his grandmother and her fierce warnings about the house. “I don’t know what happened there. There was some traumatic event but it died with the generation that lived through it. After everything happened, they moved to Virginia and never spoke of it again. No one in the town seems to know either, but many people are afraid to go in there.”

“Damn! I thought for sure you could tell me more. I am starting to find out some things but the search for information is very slow. The house intrigues me. Were it possible to fall in love with a building I think I am doing it. Everything about the house is romantic and full of stories. Hey do you know the name of your great-great-great grandmother?”

“Let me think…. Yeah, actually I do. My Grandmother was named for her. Her name was Susannah. Does that help?”

Carrie’s eyes lit up with excitement. Charlie thought they reminded him of emeralds glistening in the moonlight. Her enthusiasm showed on her face like that of a little kid in a toy store near Christmas. “It helps tremendously. Now I know who the ghost is!”

So now they knew that it was Susannah that haunted the house but the true question was why?

Chapter Thirteen: Romance is in the air

Charlie and Carrie had a nice friendly platonic date. Carrie wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. She wanted that kiss at the end of the night. She lingered. She leaned her body into his. She gave him all of the right signals but it seemed that he was too blind to see any of it. “Stop it!” She screamed silently. What is the matter with you? You don’t want him to kiss you. That would mean you were being unfaithful to the one man you have loved in your life. Do you want Jon to walk out on you? She looked at her reflection in the mirror, “All right, from this day on we go out of our way to avoid that man!” And she meant it too.

Carrie stopped and inhaled, somewhere there was a fireplace going. Autumn was Carrie’s favorite time of year. It seemed to come on fast here. It was mid September and already the path was strewn with leaves in brilliant hues of amber, rust and gold. Carrie stopped and picked one up and thoughtfully she twirled it in her hand. She had to fight the urge to run and jump in them. She wanted to feel like a kid enjoying the brisk air. And indeed to a casual observer she might have seemed naught but a child in her large sweatshirt that came to her knees and a blush of pink on her pale cheeks. But today was not a trivial day; today her visit was too somber, her purpose too grim.

Carrie walked toward her destination, her arms clenched in tight fists by her side. She steeled her resolve and pushed on the heavy iron gates. There was a mist here in the cemetery, a mist that seemed oddly absent from the rest of town. Carrie had never been here before but she found the spot that she searched for with no problems. Clearing away debris form the crumbling tombstone, with trepidation Carrie set down the flowers she brought with her. Stepping away she sat on the bench that faced Susannah Murray’s final resting place. The words on it had withered away with time but it was easy enough to put two and two together.

Here lies

Susannah Murray

Wonderful Wife, Dedicated Mother

In Death She Leaves Us Desolate

1825 – 1854

Carrie did the math in her head. Poor Susannah was only twenty-nine at the time of her death and a mere nineteen at the time of her marriage. She looked around her, taking in the large desolate plots of land with one swift glance. Assuring herself that there was no one around, she began to speak to the grave…

“Susannah, what goose chase are you sending me on? I don’t know if I am the one you need to solve your mysteries. I have found but a little bit more then when I started. I have only been at this three weeks and I am not giving up but I don’t know where to go next. Why do you haunt that house Susannah? I know who you are and I know that your mother died when you were young. I know the Hughes’ then adopted you and that you had an older brother who went on to become the Governor of this state. I know that you were married in 1843 and that you had at least two children but other then that I don’t know what it is you want me to find out. Please Susannah give me some more clues. I know you can do it if you try.”

Susannah took a deep breath and let out a sigh born of weariness. The only sound she heard was the faint stirring of leaves at the foot of the plot. The fact that the wind had not blown anywhere else but there had escaped Carrie. The leaves swirled in a small circle as if she had awakened the very soul that lie beneath them. Spooked, she arose from her seat but as she walked away she turned back one more time.

“I admire you Susannah. You were so young and yet you knew that being a wife and mother were what you wanted. You knew whom you loved at only nineteen. I still am not sure of myself. Maybe you can send me a sign on that too while you are at it.” And with that she walked away.

It was a beautiful day for a walk and as she passed by a grinder shop she had a sudden craving for a Philly Cheesesteak. Well aware that she would not get exactly what she wanted she decided to give it a try anyway. She was lonely too and longed for company for lunch. Going to see Charlie was out of the question she knew so she bought two cheesesteaks and some fries and headed over to see Buffy.

Carrie popped her head in the door of the diner and saw with mild satisfaction that it was slow. Not really wanting to anger Cook, she waited till she got Buffy’s attention and waved her over.

“Hi Ya Doll. Whatcha doin today?”

“I brought some lunch for us.” Carrie whispered feeling like a co-conspirator. “You hungry?”

“Well sure it beats the hell out of this food whatever it is. Come on upstairs. We’re slow anyways…. I’ll tell Cookie that I am taking my break now.”

Carrie chuckled, the name Cookie didn’t quite fit with the large abrasive cook that worked the grill. She heard Buffy’s voice and then an answering grunt and soon they were up the backstairs and settling into the apartment above the restaurant.

“Have a look around doll while I get some things from the kitchen. Would you like a beer?” Buffy asked amongst the clattering of plates and silverware.

“Sure a beer sounds great,” Carrie said as she took stock of her surroundings. The décor was flamboyant at the very least. It was done in deep jewel tones. Royal purple throw pillows trimmed in gold fringe sat upon a dark pink couch. It was ostentatious. It was loud. It was slightly obnoxious and yet it fit together. It was Buffy, in a word.

Buffy came back in and caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Carrie’s mouth. “You like it?”

“Yeah I do. It fits you to a T Buffy.”

“Well hell thanks sugah. We like it enough.”

Carrie looked around in confusion for a cat or a dog or some small pet she might have missed. “We?”

Buffy chuckled, “Can you keep a secret doll?” And without waiting for an answer she continued to blurt out her news, “Me and Cookie set up housekeeping together. Now course we don’t talk bout it much. This here’s a small town. But I am mad crazy about him even though he drives me bonkers. I have him wrapped round my little pinky too.”

Carrie was happy for her. “That is great Buffy. Will you make him number six?”

“Don’t know about that sugah six never was my lucky number. But then neither was numbers one through five.” At that they both laughed and dove into their lunch with a gusto that would make any man proud.

“So,” said Buffy wiping off the ketchup from the corners of her pixie like mouth. “You find what you needed in the library?”

“No unfortunately it was not a great source of information. But I did find out that the house was built in 1843. So that gives me a starting time frame anyway.”

“Well that is good I guess. Now you can put a price on some of those antiques in there. If you don’t mind me asking doll are you okay, you seem kind of out of it, like there’s something on your mind.”

“Oh I’m sorry I guess I am not very good company. I am trying to figure out how to solve a mystery. Err… for my new book.” She said not wanting to give anything away.

“Well that’s alright dear I guess a creative mind is always at work. So tell me when is the mystery man of yours coming down to visit?”

“I am not sure when he is coming down. We aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment.”

“But I thought he wanted to marry you?”

“He does.”

“Well honey, it is none of my business but if that guy wants to marry you then he should be trying to sweep you off your feet not avoiding you.”

They had a lovely lunch together, Buffy and Carrie and days later Carrie would still be pondering what Buffy said. She found herself agreeing if Jon wanted to marry her then a little romance would definitely be in order.

In New York City on that same night, at a convention for the prominent architects on the East Coast, a man and a woman waltzed across the floor. She swayed in his arms to the gentle rhythm of the music. All eyes were upon them thinking Cupid had made a match. But the man was hesitant, it had been six years since he had touched another and the other woman still held a hold on his heart. What was Jon to do?

Chapter Fourteen: Apparitions with Attitude

A week after her lunch with Buffy, Carrie was fixing dinner. She made a terrific salad and popped a microwave dinner in. How sad it was, she thought, that she had one guy who wanted to marry her and one who she thought was interested in her and yet because of her own stubbornness she sat here eating alone. Flipping through her latest issue of Cosmo, she found the agony column and was wholly interested in the romantic escapades of others. She was so into what she was reading that the sudden noises she heard in the otherwise quiet house startled her out of her wits. The magazine fell to the floor and the fork for her salad clanged onto the countertop where her hand had rested. There was a scratching sound like nails running down a glass pane. It had come from somewhere in the parlor. There was a rolling sound across the floor upstairs and the creak of the floorboards above her. The ghosts had been so quiet as of late she wasn’t prepared for another uprising. She looked around her not knowing where to investigate first. These unfamiliar sounds were scaring her more than usual. These were not the sounds of Susannah. These were not the sounds of a mother rocking her baby to sleep. These were frightening…eerie… altogether unearthly.

Carrie grabbed the knife that she had used to chop the lettuce and moved into the parlor not sure whom or what she would confront. The scratching sounds continued, up and down, screeching…scraping. Something wanted her attention and when she moved the curtain to the window she screamed a blood-curdling scream of horror. Carrie had come face to face with a man. He was white… so white that he seemed to stand out like a beacon in the shadows of the night. His eyes were vacant. He looked right through her. His hands were scratching down the window. She dropped the knife and ran for the phone. But as she picked it up to dial, she wondered who in their right mind would believe her. A glowing man in nineteenth century garb was haunting her. What could anyone do to protect her from that? The sound stopped and she cautiously walked back to the window and opened the curtain. The humidity of the fireplace had formed a frost and seemingly scratched into the glass were the words “HELP ME.”

She backed away and screamed again when she met the banister. Tentatively she looked up the stairs and she remembered the other noise. A light glowed from the middle bedroom. It was a light that Carrie had not turned on. That was a room she never entered. While she liked to go in and run her hands over the bedding in the baby’s room she felt as though she was intruding in the room of the older child. Hands trembling, she started her assent. Stair by stair she walked until she reached the top, and she pushed on the door with her hand. It opened slowly with a creak, the creak that one would attribute to rusty hinges. On the windowsill glowed a candle. Had it always been there and was just newly lit or had it been placed there by the hands of another world? Carrie wasn’t sure. She walked slowly into the room and at first all appeared right. There was nothing out of the ordinary, until she reached the foot of the bed and with her fist in her mouth, she bit back a startled scream.  In amongst the dust particles on the hardwood floors were little tin soldiers in perfect lines and the lines spelled out the words… “Release us.”

Carrie flew down the steps as fast as she could. She popped the door on the microwave that was beeping incessantly at her, a harsh reminder that everyday reality was mixing with some unnatural state in that ancient house. Carrie grabbed her jacket, purse and keys and ran out the door. She knew she would return later that night; she had to return and keep her promise to Susannah.  However, the newest ghosts at the manor were not ones with which she cared to dine.

She drove around the town in search of someplace to eat, preferably someplace with a lot of people.  She needed that tonight, needed to be around a crowd. She settled on the local tavern. She liked their tongue-in-cheek advertising. It promised to have the best seafood this side of Main Street. Carrie walked into the bar and grabbed a table. She nodded to the few patrons that sat around on barstools; mostly men with their eyes glued to the hockey came on TV. Her thoughts were flustered, she could not even recollect whether the game was pre-season or not and being from Philly she was an avid Flyers fan.  Focusing, her eyes scanned the menu, and she decided what to order by the time the waitress was ready for her. She was staring out the window, trying to get the image of the man out of her mind when a shadow overtook her. Glancing up to see why the overhead lights had suddenly dimmed she was pleasantly surprised to see Charlie standing there.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked her and returned her smile. He was glad she was happy to see him. There was a genuine kindling of friendship there and maybe the possibility of more. Charlie knew that he was fighting an  unseen opponent in the war for Carrie’s heart. He knew that he had to take it slow or she would never include him in her life quite the way he hoped she would. But he also was wary. Charlie wanted Carrie on his terms, he was not looking to be an escape route for her fear of commitment, and he was not looking to be the rebound romance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for in his relationship with her, whether he wanted to date her or marry her, but this lady sure had a hold on him.

“Sir Galahad, I presume?” Asked Carrie extending her hand for him to kiss, which he promptly did.

“Well, my armor is a little rusty but I thank you for noticing it and to what do I owe the pleasure of that title?”

Damn those gorgeous eyes of his. They were always mocking her; humor glinting in those ice blue depths and something else… passion perhaps. “You have that title because you saved me from my thoughts and from the boredom of my own company.”

“Mi’lady somehow I doubt that you could bore anyone.” And he was pleased to see that she blushed under his compliments. Taking the seat opposite, Charlie looked closely at her face for the first time that evening. He could see, even under the neon lights of a barroom that her pallor was extremely pale. She reminded him of a Faberge egg beautiful and delicate and fragile. “Are you alright?”

She bedazzled him with her smile, all thoughts of staying away from him fled out of her mind as she stared back at the friendly face sitting across her table. “Of course, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Cause you look as though you’ve seen a…never mind you probably have.” He let his sentence trail off there and automatically began cursing the luck that she was the one to look after his house and get it ready to sell. He didn’t want to see her upset or hurt in any way.

“I’ll admit I did see something a little startling there this evening, but it is nothing I can’t handle. It just seems as though I met two more uhhh residents that abide there and these two seem particularly troubled.” Carrie said, not wanting to tell him more. She found his fear of the house disturbed her for though it was haunted, she loved it with all her heart. She felt the way she assumed Susannah felt about the house. She wanted Charlie to come and experience the wonder of it firsthand. If she told him anymore, she would never get him there.

Charlie chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to anger her or upset the stubborn streak he felt sure she possessed.

“I don’t want you to be there if the house upsets you that much. It is scaring you. I can see it.”

“I said I would handle it!” Carrie replied. She could feel her back tense, ready for a fight. “Please, let’s change the subject.”

“Damn it Carrie, listen to me! Something in that house scared you tonight. I don’t know what it was, but I have the feeling it was pretty bad. I won’t have you staying there if it bothers you like that.”

“You have no right to say whether I will stay there! Do you think one date gives you any right to control my life?”

“No, but even as your friend and the guy that owns the house, I can throw you out you know.”

“You can’t do that I made a promise to Susannah that I would help her find peace there. Now you can help me to do that, or you can stand in my way but either way it is getting done. Make your choice Murray and you better make the right one.”

“Alright, alright I give. I’ll help you however I can.” Charlie put up his hands in mock surrender. And as Carrie laughed all was right with his world again.

They had a lovely dinner together, laughing and chatting and learning more about each other’s lives. And when the time came for them to wrap up their evening, Carrie leaned in a little closer and so did Charlie and this time their lips met, brushing softly against one another. The electricity sent them both reeling, and they each backed away awkwardly and said their goodbyes. Charlie was cursing himself for even tasting a slight piece of what he deemed forbidden fruit. And Carrie was wrestling with her desire to be with a man who was not Jon.

The drive back to the house was slow, somewhat because Carrie was thinking about her romantic life and partly because she was afraid of what she would find when she entered the stately old building. She pulled up the drive very cautiously. The house looked normal from the outside and she was relieved that it appeared normal from the inside too. Figuring she would clean up any mess tomorrow, she wearily made her way to bed. Had she led Charlie on? Would he read too much into that kiss? Did she want him too? All these thoughts were running through her head.

And in the kitchen that she neglected that night; the magazine sat on the counter neatly closed, the fork put in the sink next to the knife and the microwave meal was left unattended on the counter. Some ghostly maid perhaps or perhaps Susannah making sure her house was tidy again? Or maybe the hand of the frightening apparition at the window taking pity on the poor girl that he had scared that evening? Perhaps we will never know.

Chapter Fifteen: Something about Cowboys

Carrie woke up frustrated the next day. She was running out of leads and running into more specters. As in her life there were so many questions left unanswered. She was certain that the man she saw last night, the one in the window was none other then Stephen Murray 2nd and Stephen Murray 3rd had left the message in the room upstairs. What doomed these haunted and tortured souls to stay twixt this world and the next? It wasn’t just one of them, this was an entire family, even down to the poor baby. Perhaps Susannah would give her another clue sometime soon. Carrie answered the door that afternoon and was totally surprised when she saw a florist on the other side with three vases of long-stemmed roses. They were a beautiful pastel rainbow of colors, peaches, yellows, creams, oranges and reds. It was a sensual treat, decadent and aromatic. She graciously accepted them and the card form the deliveryman and having tipped him well, she brought the flowers in and set them about the sitting room. One vase sat on the mantel of the fireplace, another on the upright piano and the third she put on the center of the table closest to her. Everywhere she looked she could see this romantic gesture and her heart skipped a beat. Anxiously she opened the card, but the words inside gave no clue to the sender. It read only, “Not quite as beautiful as you.” She flipped the card from back to front and over again looking for another hint from her admirer but there was none to be found.

Carrie decided that if she could get her mind off of her love life, today would be the day that she would work on her book. And much to her credit she started out to do just that. She sat down at the dining table with her laptop open, her thesaurus by her side and a pot of coffee brewing. And she was just about to type the very first word when the doorbell rang again. Only this time the deliveryman happened to be none other then Charlie Murray. Caught off guard, Carrie subconsciously pushed up the sleeves of her old sweatshirt and pushed a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear.

 “Are you going to invite me in? It took me an hour of circling the neighborhood to get up the courage to walk into this house you know.”

“Of course come in,” she said and bit her lip, an old habit of nervous anxiety. Being in public with this man was one thing but looking into those steel blue eyes in a private setting scared her more then the specters that haunted the house.

“I won’t stay long,” he said barely meandering his way past the threshold. Carrie watched him take in his surroundings as he nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck where the hair was standing straight up.

“I came to bring you this.” Charlie said and he handed her the family Bible. “I did a little digging last night through some old boxes my mother gave me. This was about all I could find.”

Carrie ran her hand over the much-treasured family heirloom and wondered if it held any key to her puzzle. She took it over to the piano and set it carefully down upon the top. It was then that Charlie noticed the roses. His hands balled up in fists and had she been looking at him she would have noticed that something sparked in his eyes. Charlie was having a hard time identifying the feeling himself. Was it anger? Jealousy? He wasn’t sure but he did know at that moment that some irrational fear of a building was not going to stand in his way of getting to know this lady a little better. Carrie looked at the flowers and then to him. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or embarrassed. He was staring at her and she thought that perhaps he was astounded at her rudeness. Should she thank him? She started to say that very thing when Charlie interrupted her. Walking over to the vase nearest him, he fingered the petal of a cream rose. He marveled at the silky feeling and mused that Carrie’s skin would feel similar beneath his touch.

Shaking off that thought he said to her, “Seems as though I have some competition in the romance department.” He arched an eyebrow and awaited her reply. Carrie flushed form both excitement and because she felt a little ashamed to have the flowers out in front of him, but she had no way of knowing they were not from him. On the other hand however, he had just made his intentions to romance her perfectly clear.

 She stuttered feeling his eyes upon her, “I… um … I guess they are from Jon then. Though he usually sends wild flowers. This just isn’t his style at all.”

“Ah Jon, well if the man usually romances you with wild flowers perhaps I have a better chance then I thought.” Charlie scoffed sounding cockier then he felt. What chance had he against the man she had been in love with for most of her adult life? Well spending time with her was his first step and if that meant staying in this house who’s stories and images had haunted him since childhood then he would do just that. “Alright, I am in the mood for a little ghost hunt.” He said. “What info do we have so far and what can I do to help?”

Carrie marveled at his sudden willingness to help and having dated only one man seriously in her life didn’t realize that his sudden bravado was born of insecurity. She picked up the Bible again and walked over to the table and invited him to sit down. She reached behind her and took out the music box. As soon as she opened it the door upstairs slammed shut and the beautiful music began to play. She saw Charlie jump with the door and felt she had to reassure him. “It’s alright it does that every time I play the music, but I assure you there are no monsters up there, at least not during the day. You want a tour before we start?”

“Alright I guess,” and they walked through the house together, marveling over every antique. The rooms decorated with their original things and so untouched by time spooked Charlie. “Perhaps I should not sell this house and keep it as a museum,” he chuckled. He meant it as a joke but Carrie bristled.

Putting her hand on Charlie’s chest she stopped him. “You can’t. You can’t sell this house. It is a beautiful place Charlie how could you not love it? It is so full of history, romance and struggle. I would rather a museum then you selling it please….”Charlie took put his hand over hers, enjoying the way it felt on his chest. He lifted it on and brought it to his lips. His eyes locked with hers and he ran his thumb over and over the back of her hand. It was a simple gesture but so sweet, so sincere, so sexy.

“Alright Carrie, alright. I won’t sell it. I can certainly afford to keep it but I don’t know if I could ever live here.”

“Could I rent it from you?” Carrie asked suddenly inspired by a whim. Jon would not want to live down here but she could come and stay when she wanted to be alone. The thought crossed her mind that she should never want to be alone if she was in love with him, but she brushed that off immediately and at the thought of Jon she withdrew her hand suddenly from where it was clasped, feeling like she betrayed her innermost self.

Charlie avoided answering her. “So is this all there is to see of this house?”

“Well there is an attic that I would love to see if you promise to stand down here and catch me if I fall through the floorboards.”

“Hmm let me see the prospect of a beautiful girl in distress falling into my arms I think I can handle that.” Charlie said at laughed as the excitement flashed in her eyes.

Carrie pulled the ladder down and carefully ascended into the attic. Peering through the darkness to locate things was a little easier then before. The window to the attic was surprisingly dirty and had blocked out much light. The light touched only one box and she wondered what happened to the shapes she had seen that first night. Were they figments of her imagination? Carrie hesitantly crawled toward the box. It was large and heavy. She pulled it to the opening and with Charlie’s help pulled it down to the floor below them. “Well should we open it here or take it downstairs?” She asked.

Shivers ran up Charlie’s spine. “I think downstairs would be better.” And to ward off the fear he was feeling he carried it downstairs and whistled a tune.

“What’s that you are whistling?” Carrie asked.

“Hmm I dunno seems like something from my childhood why?”

“Don’t you recognize it? That’s the tune form the music box.” Carrie said and was amazed that he had picked up that tune so quickly.

“Nope, that is not where I know it from. I have heard it before though. Oh well, I am sure I will remember it soon.” He said with a grunt as he put the box down on the floor next to the table.

“Well should we open it first, go over what we have or crack open the bible?” Carrie said full of excitement. And she was waiting for his answer when his pager went off.

“Shit!” he said cursing his luck. “I gotta go I have a mare that is about to foal and I they need me back at the ranch. She is kind of a favorite of mine.” And though he was disappointed with the interruption, the excitement of the moment swept into his eyes.

“I would love to come by and see it after it is born. I like horses although I have never ridden.”

“Well we’ll just have to fix that then. I’m sorry bout this,” he said waving his hand over their promising new leads.

“It’s all right. I promise to let you know what I find out.” She said as she walked him to the door and waved goodbye to him as he pulled away. She leaned against the door and paused for a moment.

“Hmmm there is just something about cowboys.” She said to herself.

Chapter Sixteen: Pandora’s Box

Looking from the box and then back to the family bible again, she thought that perhaps the bible was a better starting place. The box was calling to her but she would rather save the best for last. She opened the front cover of the bible and scanned the history of the family very quickly.  It didn’t take too long to come to the entry that she searched for. In faded and blotched ink of years gone by were written the names of Charlie’s ancestors

Marriages:

The Honorable Stephen Patrick Murray the 2^nd

To

Miss Susannah Anne Hughes

The 26^th day of September in the year 1843

Children:

Stephen Patrick Murray the 3^rd

Born

December 18, 1844

Thomas Robert Murray

Born

November 21, 1852

Deaths:

Mrs. Susannah Anne Murray

Died

November 21, 1852

Carrie ran a hand over her face as much to relieve the sorrow that overcame her as to wipe away the moisture that had formed in her eyes. The story told in those few line was sad. A man widowed after nine years of marriage. A father left to cope without his partner. A son left without a mother at only eight years old and another who would never know her. It must have been pure torture for them.

Carrie looked upwards to the landing above her. She half expected Susannah to be watching her. But the space was empty. Still she felt the need to call out. “Susannah is that why you haunt the house; because you passed away in childbirth? Are you trying to get to know the baby you never met?” As she expected, no answer came her way.

Carrie looked at the box and thought twice about opening it alone. Should she wait for Charlie to come back? Somewhere in the back of her mind there was an urgency to discover the secrets that lay within the box no matter how disturbing those secrets might be. She lifted the lid gently, almost reverently.

She uttered a gasp as the first surprise came into view. Wrapped in muslin, that had somehow or other withstood the test of time, was a wedding gown. Instinctively, she knew that it had been word by Susannah. It was white, or had been at one time.  It was hand decorated with hundreds of tiny pearls to adorn its simple silk carriage. It was not simplistic or serviceable as most would have been in that time period. It was extravagantly long with a high bustle in the back and a high collar at the neck. It would have been the dress of a bride with a dowry, a propertied woman. Carrie marveled at the condition and the detail. She set it on the table to examine later. Under the dress had been the faded remains of the hat and veil that had once gone with it. It had a wide brim and it appeared to have been adorned with a veil and a band of silk at some point in time, but had been damaged with age.

The only thing that remained in the box was an envelope. Carrie took it out and timorously opened the seal. There were two pieces of paper inside, a small pin and a ring.  She held the ring in her hand and realized with some astonishment that it must have been Susannah’s wedding ring, a simple silver band. Perhaps it had been worn by generations beyond her, passed down from one to the next till they no longer felt its simplicity to be stylish. She tried it on the ring finger of her left hand and not surprisingly it fit very well.

The pin that was inside the envelope was a mystery. It was about the size of a straight pin. The tip though was broader and flatter then a straight pin was. It looked as though it had been at one time encrusted with diamonds and might still be but it needed to be cleaned. The years had not been kind to this tiny little thing.

All that remained then, were the two folded pieces of paper. One piece appeared to be some kind of onion skin and the other a parchment of sorts. Gingerly unfolding the onionskin, Carrie found that it was an etching. It appeared to be of an amulet of some sort.  It was oval and about an inch long. It looked like it was a flower and was covered with an entanglement of vines. It seemed like it was keeping the flower safe, or suppressing its beauty.  Carrie had no idea what the amulet was or where it was.

The other piece of paper was blotched with ink. It maintained fingerprints, smudges of history, a signature to all who had read it before her. It was in stanzas and though withered and old, Carrie was able to understand that it was a poem and not just any poem, but one written by the hand of Susannah Murray herself.

The Sailor Merchant’s Wife

By

Susannah A. Murray

She laid her weary head upon her pillow

Knowing well she could not find the rest she struggled for

And so to get some air she rose

Only to greet his mistress as she opened up the door

“Fie!” she cried to the consuming beast

That waited from her not far

And she searched the heaven for a friend

In the ever shining northward star.

But alas, no friend to be had tonight

And in pitch blackness the sky resounded

And she knew the enemy’s time to be near

As her fear and love compounded

Her lover’s mistress beckoned her forth

As if to join her in their games

And the lady wondered if she should not go

By chance the wild whore she could tame

The harlot was ranging in angry fervor

As thunder crashed the sky

And the wind began to play a furious tune

A storm was coming nigh

The lady stepped to the widow’s walk

Drenched in the pouring rain

And she searched the endless darkness

Her heart filled with a driving pain

She wanted to please her husband’s lover

For she knew well the force with which she could strike

How much could she give of herself

To soothe the ravenous appetite?

Now the clouds begin to lift

And the moon stood fast watch beside her

How long could she play the fool

To nature’s own Delilah.

His mistress was not a woman

No far more dangerous then she

It was the ever-fervent call

Of the livid and dangerous sea

He was to be gone a fortnight

But two had passed since then

And she wondered with growing anxiety

To even see her love again

A boat appeared on the horizon whose captain

She knew instinctively to be he

And a joyous cry arose from her lips

Echoed it would forever be

So if by chance you meet the seaside

And hear the howl of night

Fear not ‘tis only the wind

Echoing the sailor merchant’s wife.

Carrie understood now the smudges of ink, the tear-stained words. She felt what Susannah felt, the frustrations, the yearning, the fear, the relief. Those were powerful words. She opened the music box and the upstairs door slammed again. She was used to it now. She put the papers and the pin inside. Carrie suddenly found herself very drained. It was as if she had been on a roller coaster of emotions and she just needed to sit down and clear her head for a little while. Gathering up the wedding dress, she went to the sitting room to take full advantage of the daylight and to look at the detail as best she could. However as she sat back in the overstuffed chair, she felt her eyelids grow heavier. She felt herself lulled to sleep. And as she slept, she dreamed.

The Dream

Carrie had intended to close her eyes for just one second But that one second had propelled back hundreds of years. Standing in front of the mirror, she peered in but it was not her face she saw it was Susannah’s who looked back at her. And she knew in an instant she had been given some sweet gift, a glimpse into the past.

Susannah peered into the mirror again She looked beautiful, even to her own eyes. Her dress was pristine and so elegant. Hundreds of tiny pearls adorned the bottom and the small train. The high bustle in the back was adorned with a bow. The lace collar was high around her neck. It was a bit old-fashioned perhaps; the style was at least twenty years old and yet she thought it looked beautiful. Even to her eyes. She smiled down at the Claddagh that adorned her right hand today. It was the engagement ring he gave her, silver with and emerald heart. Extravagant yes, perhaps, but Steven spoiled her. These engagement rings were all the rage right now. She heard some of the ones in Europe were even made out of diamonds.  Turning around she smiled at the room that would be hers no longer. And in all truthfulness she longed to leave it. Those few years she had spent in the convent had given her an obscure taste at freedom. In some perverse way those dear old ladies had been kinder to her then her life had been since her adoptive parents had died eight years ago, only two after her own mamma had died. She had been left with no one but William to raise her. He was only eighteen then himself. But it hadn’t mattered he had hated her for many years and even more so after his parents adopted her. But at eighteen he was more interested in playing around then raising her. And after only a year, he sent her away one night. She was not very crushed; to get away from him would be a pleasure. Susannah shook her head to ward off the thought creeping in. Instead she thought about Stephen and the first day they met when he literally bumped into her in the mercantile shop. He was so handsome and sweet as he fumbled all over the place. It was love at first sight.

Brigitte came in at that moment. Brigitte was the maid that Stephen had hired to help Susannah make the huge transition to the lady of the household. Straight from Ireland, Brigitte was a true treasure and they were already fast friends. “Aoy, you look beautiful mi’lady. Sure’n Mr. Stephen knows what a beautiful lady he is getting. You outshine all of those society fluffs.” Susannah hugged her friend and she smiled at the thought that she would finally have a name of her own. She would be a lady, a true lady. Marrying Stephen was going to give her that. She peeked in her mirror again and smoothed her hands over the butterflies that danced in her belly. Brigitte fussed with her bustle until a knock came on the door. When a familiar voice asked to come in, the butterflies in Susannah’s stomach leapt to her throat. And Brigitte scurried away to put the finishing touches on the hat. She was not going to be around Mr. William, he scared her.

William entered, presumptuous and pompous, taking long arrogant strides into the room. He covered the distance between them in no time at all. “You look lovely my dear.” He said taking a long look at Susannah and running his tongue over his lips. He reminded her of a slithering snake, slimy and cold. “Thank you William.” She said and curtsied to him as was proper. “So Stephen gets my sister today,” has said with an evil sneer. “A true lady as far as he knows. But we will keep that our little secret won’t we dear?” Susannah hated him. He knew the one thing that could stop her marriage to Stephen today. She was not true society and his family would have never accepted her. But to stay on his good side, if indeed he had one, she smiled sweetly and accepted the arm he proffered to her. Brigitte settled the hat on her head and they walked out the door together. She would say goodbye to William today, only forced to see him at society gatherings, and join her life with her husband, the man she loved.

The shrill ringing of her cell phone woke Carrie up from her dream. At first she was not aware of where she was and then she jumped with a start and ran to answer it. It was Raymond on the other end.

“How are you dear, I haven’t heard from you in a few days?”

“I’m fine…fine…I think…”

“You seem distracted am I disturbing you? Dare I hope that you were working on your new masterpiece?”

“Well yes and yes and no.  I just woke up I was napping. And having the strangest dream. It helped me with my research believe it or not. I have the most wonderful story to tell I think.”

“Well that’s good. Tell me honey have you heard from Jon?”

“Ummm, he sent me three dozen roses I think. He never signed the card, but they were not from Charlie, so I suppose he is trying to romance me.”

“Charlie? Uh oh. Has that delicious man been around more then he used to be?”

“Well we have had a few dates I suppose. He is helping me with my research.”

“Hmmm think Jon is going to buy that excuse?”

“Oh please, I have done nothing wrong, well all right one innocent kiss, but Jon doesn’t need to know about that until I decide it is right. Jon is the one that stopped talking to me all of the sudden and now he wants some attention again.”

“Hmm, perhaps he remembered that he loves you,” Raymond said, but privately he knew why Jon had this sudden interest. He was trying to assuage his own guilt, find his true feeling. Oh yes, rumors flew fast in New York’s social circles and he knew that Jon had met one of the socialites at an architecture party. He would never repeat that to Carrie though, it was not his place to meddle as Tomas reminded him gently. He still worried for his friend though. “Well I have to go dear, people await me.”

“All right Raymond take care. I will talk to you soon.”

Wonder what that was all about? Carrie thought. But she brushed it off as the memory of her dream came flooding back. It was too real, and a little too spooky. Suddenly she didn’t want to be alone tonight. Charlie was busy and she racked her brain to call someone. She couldn’t call Lea. Lea had to work in the morning and she wouldn’t drag her away from her love at night anyway. She knew. She deliberately walked over to the phone and dialed for local information. Getting the number, she punched in the buttons.

“Greasy Spoon?”

“Hi can I talk to Buffy please?”

“Yo, hon it’s for you.” Said Cookie gruffly and Carrie suppressed her laughter on the other end.

Buffy picked up the phone.

“Hey Buffy, it’s Carrie. How do you feel about a sleepover tonight?”

“Sure hon in that big ole house it sounds great and a little spooky, but after all Halloween is coming soon anyway. I’ll bring dinner if you provide the antacids.”

Carrie laughed and Cookie let off a string of expletives tempered with humor in the background.

“Oh and Buffy, one more thing. Do you have a Ouija Board?”

Chapter Seventeen: Gaining Knowledge

The lights were dimmed. Buffy sat on one side of the table and Carrie on the other; both staring at the board that say between them. They had long since passed the days of giggling teenagers that would play this game for fun. After Buffy has taken a tour of the house and they sat around and talked for a while, she too became convinced that something lurked there, something not evil but certainly not of this realm.

“Ah you ready dahling?” Buffy asked, while taking a deep breath and resolutely setting her hands on one side of the plastic wedge.

The cool winds of autumn were making a tree branch beat a cadence on the window of the dining room. It was eerie. There was a full moon in the nocturnal sky. It was a perfect night for bats and witches and all manner of things that played on the imaginations of young children and adults who were young at heart as the year rounded near Halloween.

“As ready as I will ever be I guess.” Said Carrie and she placed her hands on the other side of the wedge.

The silence in the house was strong and only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the sitting room broke the stillness. The two women sat opposite one another and concentrated as hard as they could. Carrie asked the first question.

“Is there any spirit here this evening?”

The tiny wedge moved quickly forward to the word yes. Carrie’s touch was light and the pale pallor of her friend confirmed that the wedge had moved on its own.

“Is it Susannah?” Buffy questioned. The wedge much to their surprise moved to rapidly to no.

“Who is here then?” And in a haphazard manner the triangle zigged and zagged across the board, briefly resting on the letters S-T-E-P-H-E-N.

“Stephen were you the husband of Susannah in life?” and their plastic guide moved slowly across the board to the word yes. Carrie had the distinct impression that it was sorrowful.

“Stephen, help us here. We want to understand what it is you need. Did Susannah die from complications of childbirth?”  Suddenly the triangle moved violently off of the board. It moved so quickly that their fingers fell where they were.

Buffy looked at Carrie and arched her eyebrows as if to query was that enough or were they done? Carrie shook her head and went over to pick up the wedge. She repeated her question and this time the wedge went to no.

“Was she murdered?” It took a different path this time and very slowly, very deliberately spelled out N-O.

“Then why do you haunt Stephen, what is it that needs our help?”  They waited almost an interminable time. Slowly it began to move the letters he spelled shook them to their core. I – L-O-V-E-D H-E-R.

They were able to ask one more question before their contact with the spirit world ceased to exist. “Give me a clue Stephen, what is the mystery?”

Slowly the piece of plastic with a life of its own, moved across the board stopping momentarily on various letters, and then rapidly as if he needed to get it done in a hurry. G-V-N-R-M-A-S-O-N.

“Stephen that doesn’t make sense, please help me.” The wedge moved no more under the light touch of their hands. Stephen was gone.

“What was that last thing he spelled Buffy?” Carrie asked as her friend had written down the letters.

“Well as near as I can figure he wants you to go to the Governor’s Mansion, but that burned down right after Governor Hughes passed away if I remember my local history correctly. All that stands there now is a museum with some stuff of his and some period artwork and furniture. Not really worth the price of admission and admission is free.”

“I will try and get there tomorrow then.” Carrie said.

“You’ll have to wait until Monday, it is closed on the weekends.”

“Damn!” she muttered, Carrie was not patient and that would be a very long wait!

Carrie spent the weekend puttering around the haunted but beloved all house. She did all the little things that she shouldn’t have because it was not hers. But she couldn’t help it, this house held her soul within it’s walls. She worked in the garden, pruned the trees and shrubs, raked the leaves and then headed to the store to get some tasteful Halloween Decorations. She wanted to talk Charlie into hosting an open house for the kids of the town. She kind of thought Susannah would want it that way; a happy house with a lot of kids around it.

The weekend seemed to drag by at least until Sunday. Carrie decided that she needed to get some pumpkins to add to her decorations. It just didn’t seem right without a scary pumpkin on the front porch or two or three. She got in the car and drove till she found a local pumpkin patch, or a reasonable facsimile there of and bought five of the biggest pumpkins they had there. It was a ridiculous purchase and somewhat extravagant but after all Halloween was her second favorite holiday, second only to Christmas.  The thought of the holidays approaching brought tears to her eyes. Carrie realized with sudden clarity that her parents’ cruise would be done in a month. She would have to head home and back to her normal existence. She would have to leave her beloved house and Charlie, if that were possible. And she would have to give John an answer. The problem was she still didn’t know what that answer would be. Her tears of sadness quickly turned to tears of frustration and she wiped them viciously away as she drove home.

Carving pumpkins was never an easy task. Carrie set them all on the old wooden porch and went up to change into her oldest sweat clothes. She pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail and then set about finding this biggest knife she could and the largest bucket for which she could divest of the pumpkin guts. Those materials being gathered she sat on the porch Indian style in front of the largest one and began to methodically carve into his cranium. She was covered in slimy orange goo and seeds. If nothing else mild destruction was a stress reliever.

“Umm is this a private party or can anyone join in?” asked the tall, dark and handsome cowboy that was leaning on the side of his car. She rewarded his intrusion with a shy smile and subconsciously brushed the wayward hair out of her eyes. She looked like a cat, he thought so intense. Her tongue was even sticking out as she cut the pumpkin with swift yet delicate motions. And she was so seductive. He felt more like a cat for wanting to pounce on her.

“Know anything about carving pumpkins? It is always more fun with a friend.” She said and invited him to cop a squat on the porch. She was slightly self-conscious of her bedraggled appearance. She blushed as he came up and ran his hand along her silken tresses before he sat down next to her.  Pulling a pumpkin toward him, he took the knife and carved the hole into the top. They worked side by side in comfortable silence. Carrie loved it. She liked that words need not be spoken between them and yet their conversation seemed full somehow.

“So did you learn anymore about our resident apparitions?” he asked her while he worked on making a scary face in his overly round pumpkin’s head. Carrie’s face beamed with excitement as she told him all about the research and the séance of sorts that her and Buffy had two nights ago. He arched an eyebrow as proof of his skepticism but he wisely let it pass without comment.

“Glad I wasn’t here. I don’t know if I want to get into a fist fight with an invisible opponent with an attitude.” She giggled and they lapsed back into their silence consumed by thought and artistic explorations.

When she finished her first pumpkin, Carrie glanced sideways at her partner. He looked so handsome, so well groomed sitting beside her in her present disheveled state. A man should never look better then the woman he is with and with that thought in her mind, she swiftly picked up a handful of pumpkin slime and hefted it at her friend. It landed with a splat all over his denim shirt. He looked up and smirked that went form his delicious mouth and up to his steel blue eyes. Charlie eyed her and then eyed the goop. He hefted a small handful and aimed it directly at her face, but with an adeptness born of skill and years of warring with her all male cousins, Carrie blocked the assault with the large spoon. And with a flick of the wrist the deflected goop bounced right back from whence it came. When Charlie picked up the bucket, Carrie got up and ran. They chased one another around the grounds of the old house. If anyone were listening closely, they would have heard the trees breathe a collective sigh of relief as the two friends, more like children now, ran and played amongst their leaves that had long since been forgotten by generations of people.

It did not take long for Charlie to catch up to her and he raised the bucket and took aim. The slop went flying everywhere, blending the rust colored contents of the bucket with the vibrant foliage on the ground.  Some even landed on the trunk of an old tree and some got on the rosy-cheeked face of Carrie before she ducked behind the tree. She collapsed to the ground laughing so hard. Charlie soon joined her and extended his hand to help her up but she pulled him down instead. And he landed with a thud beside her.  They were laughing together creating sweet melodious music in the autumn air. He reached toward her to brush the pumpkin off her face. A gentle brush of his thumb, it was so soft so sensual. She caught his hand against her face and held it in hers. Their eyes locked and they stared at one another. A breath was drawn in simultaneously. The air came to a halt around them. Leaves fluttered slowly to the ground. Leaning unconsciously ever closer to one another and then their lips met. It was a sweet kiss, slow and passionate. And when she fell to the ground beneath him he did not mind. They stayed that way for sometime. Bodies touching bodies, limbs intertwined, leaves crunching under the pressure. It was a stolen moment. And not until the sun glinted off a piece of glass somewhere in the distance did Charlie remember that this girl might be another man’s fiancé and he was not going to set himself up like that. It was hard but he forced himself to pull away.

Carrie rose to her elbows; the dreamy look of a girl who had just been kissed and kissed well was alight in her eyes. Her fingers traveled lightly over her lips. They were still throbbing from the crush of his mouth on hers. Thoughts of Jon were forgotten as she stared at Charlie. And he stared back with equal fervor, but with a reserved air that she failed to understand.

“How about dinner?” he said as he extended his hand to her again and this time they made it to their feet.

“Sounds good how about a pizza?” Carrie asked him and he agreed. “But I have to change first. I can’t go like this.”

“Alright but I think you are at a distinct advantage over me. I can’t tidy up as well.”

“You look fine,” she said, eyes dancing in amusement. “Well except for that little bit of orange on your shirt. Tsk. Tsk. You really should be more careful,” and with a final shove she was off and running to the house and he was right behind her.  Their dinner was great. They laughed. They talked of their history, their families, their off the wall friends. They talked about everything but avoided by an unspoken mutual consent the subject of their lives together. And this time when he kissed her good night, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Chapter Eighteen: The Governor’s Mansion

Carrie felt sure she would find something out when she headed to the Governor’s Mansion late Monday afternoon. She was hurrying. It was near four already and it closed at five. She made her way through the rooms searching for something but she was not sure she could find it. She knew though that she would find a clue in that building. After all, she had mumbled a silent prayer to Susannah the night before asking her to help her solve the mystery that still haunted her.

Carrie roamed through the local history rooms, stopping to stare at every picture and every plaque that she encountered. And yet it was almost an hour before she found anything. The last room of the museum on the second floor was like stepping back in time through some eerie portal. Carrie knew the room as if she had seen it before and yet she logically knew that is was a place she had never been to. It was a replication of the Governor’s Bedroom. Cold chills swept over her. His portrait seemed to glare down upon her, watching her every move. She moved to a case on the far side. It contained personal items of Governor Hughes. The amulet was there… the one that was traced on the onionskin that she found in the trunk. And from here she could see the side. She could see the hole big enough for the pin. She knew it was a clue, one of vital importance and she had to get to it but how?

Her answer came through the door in the form of a pimply-faced boy in a security guard uniform. He was all of sixteen or so. His voice was cracking when he spoke. “Umm miss, you will have to go now this museum is closing.”

She turned and surveyed him with her cool green eyes and she gave him her most winning smile. He recognized her immediately and fell over himself to take off his hat. “Ms. Stenson? Oh my gosh, I am such a huge fan of yours! I have read all your books. It is such an honor to have you here.”

“Why thank you,” Carrie replied in her sweetest voice. “But you have me at an advantage sir. I don’t know your name Mr…. umm?” She said prompting him.

“Oh, my name is Jones. I mean Freddy, well my friends call me Freddy that is.” His words tumbled out from his mouth so fast he was tripping over his tongue. Carrie decided then and there to play this little crush for all that it was worth. She would be cautious of course but she had to see that amulet.

“So Freddy it is then. Will you walk me out Freddy? I would certainly feel so much more secure and safe with you as an escort.”

Freddy squared his shoulders and righted his hat. He offered her the crook of his arm and he stood about nine feet taller when she accepted it.

“I bet you have lots of girlfriends just because you have this job?”

“Umm no ma’am, I mean yes ma’am well maybe one or two but none of them are as pretty as you.” He blushed at the last words and could not believe they fell out of his mouth.

The closer to the door they got, the more aggressive her tactic became. “So Freddy, I bet you know all sorts of little tidbits about this museum that no one else knows.”

“I guess I do ma’am,” he said as he took his hat off of his head and rubbed the brim of it between his fingers.

“Well then, perhaps you could help me. I am writing a book about this very place and I would love a private tour of here. Think you could wrangle one for me some night after work?”

“Well I am not supposed to but I close by myself on Friday so I could give you a tour then.”

“Alright then Freddy. It’s a date.” She told him to seal the deal and blew him a little kiss as she walked off. Sometimes being a woman has advantages.

Carrie longed for Friday. There were no visits from Charlie this week, not even a phone call. It was as though he was deliberately keeping her at bay. And perhaps upon consideration he was indeed.

It was a slow week but as she closed her eyes on Thursday night, all she could think about was that on the next evening she would hold another piece to her puzzle. Sleep came easy for her. She was exhausted, but the night has a way of terrifying you at times that even the most sleep filled night can make you tired. And in the middle of the night, Carrie shot up with a start. She was dreaming. There was something in the room with her. It was dark very dark, but the figure loomed in front of her. And she could not breathe. It came closer still, a dark shadow of a man… huge. He stood over her and his hands came down over her mouth. She could feel it. She could not scream though she was trying. The fought and kicked and finally forced him away. Then she forced herself awake. It was so real, so very frightening. And had she looked in the mirror, she might have seen the red crescent marks about her mouth. Carrie rolled over and hugged the extra pillow. And tried with all her might to push that dream out of her head.

Chapter Nineteen: The Museum Visit

Friday morning Carrie woke to the incessant ringing of her cell phone. Whoever was calling her was damned and determined to get her out of bed. Well they could wait! If she wasn’t picking up her phone there was a reason. She would check her messages as soon as she got a shower and had her cup of coffee.  The hot water poured over her and she felt slightly more alive then she has a few minutes before. When she touched her face to wash it the memories of the horrid dream came flooding back. It was unlike any that she had ever had before. In fact, she rarely suffered from nightmares. It had to be something that made her feel threatened but what? Was it Jon that she sensed in her dream? Was it Charlie? Somehow though the dream she remembered seemed not so metaphoric but more of a reality; as if she had suppressed a recollection and suddenly it came to the surface last night. But there were no horrid memories of her past that she could think of. Strange.

When she was done showering and had her breakfast, she got her cell phone and dialed for the messages. There were two from Raymond and three from Jon. Oh God, she thought as she sat down. So many calls in that short of time could only mean bad news. Was it her parents? Had something happened to their boat? She dialed Raymond’s number and was relieved when he answered on the first ring.

“What is it Ray?”

“Well hello to you to sunshine!” said Ray, hearing the panic in her voice but not yet understanding it.

“Don’t give me hello. What happened? I have five messages here two from you and three from Jon all from this morning. Is something wrong? Is someone hurt? My parents? Tomas? Jon’s mother?” Carrie’s voice escalated in panic

“No, no one is hurt. It is just, well I was wondering if you were ready to come back yet? I really think you should.” He was trying not to mettle. Tomas would be furious, but Carrie was one of his oldest and dearest friends and he would not se her hurt.

“No I am not ready yet Ray. I am still doing research and it is fascinating stuff. Why should I come back Ray what is wrong? Did something happen to my apartment? My contract?” She reviewed all the major things in her head and could not imagine where Ray was going with this.

“No it is just well, I think Jon misses you sweetie.”  Ray told her as gently as he could. He was not meddling, not repeating rumors, and just advising, as one friend would do for another.

“Oh please Raymond, if that is all it is. As a matter of fact he called me today too. I told you that. If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me.”

“That is what I am afraid of.” He mumbled, but Carrie did not hear him.

“What Ray? I am losing our connection. I think I have to recharge.”

“Carrie, I’ll let you go but before I do just be careful and if he hurts you I am going after him, pink boxing gloves and all.” He joked. It was an offhanded attempt at humor to cover the insecurity and fear he was suffering on her behalf. But all she heard was pink boxing gloves and she wondered what that was all about.

She recharged her cell phone for an hour and went about tidying up the house. She dusted and vacuumed and as she did she looked at all of the things that had given her clues over time. She somehow thought that this house had held a lot of love locked between its doors. If only she could guess what had happened to make it go so wrong.

She called Jon back as soon as she was finished. She tried to clear her mind so that she could concentrate on him.

“Jon…..”

“Carrie….” They slipped back into their old routine so easily. Their voices softened when they spoke. There was no tremendous rush of pulse though, no quickening of the heart. It was simply two kindred souls acknowledging the love they had for one another. Perhaps a love born more out of time then anything else.

“How have you been Jon? Have you been busy? I have missed you.” Her thoughts were filling her mind and her heart as she spoke. There was also something else there now though. What emotion was that? Lingering doubt perhaps or maybe it was guilt? Whichever, Carrie pushed it aside.

“I have been fine and I have missed you too. We need to talk Carrie. There are so many questions left unanswered things that are better talked over in person. I am coming down there tonight. I want to see you and have dinner perhaps?”

“Sure that would be lovely, what time will you be coming?”

“Around six okay?”

“I might be a little late I have a ‘date’ with a sixteen year old first.”

Jon laughed thinking her mad perhaps but he knew that she was merely playing with him. “Okay will you send me the address of the restaurant?  You can send it over voicemail. I would say call me back but I have meetings all afternoon.”

“I will Jon. See you later.” And they ended the call without so much as an I love you. Where had the romance gone?

The hours of the day passed slowly and when five o’clock came Carrie dressed with caution and headed out into the chilled evening air. A storm was evident and it seemed prophetic as well. She drove to the museum with suppressed excitement. That amulet would not solve her puzzle but it would give her a damn good clue.

Freddy was excited to see her and he acted the proper gentleman and was actually a knowledgeable tour guide. He patiently answered all of Carrie’s questions and shot her a few of his own about writing. As they went form room to room, Freddy dutifully locked each door. He took his job seriously, Carrie noted and she respected that. She also realized that he would not let her touch that amulet if his life depended on it.

When they reached the last room, Carrie felt the same sensation crawl down her spine. She felt a tightening in her chest, a fear that she could not explain.  Freddy put his keys down on the glass case, sensing that he would need to wait a while. Carrie was busy trying to think of an errand to send him on, when fate again stepped in to lend a hand. A honking of a car horn outside led Freddy to the window.

“Oh that is my girl,” he told Carrie shyly. I told her you were coming tonight but she didn’t believe. Mind if I bring her up here to meet you?”

“Oh no I would be delighted,” said Carrie, “But Freddy? Take your time let her think it was her idea okay? Girl’s like to be in charge you know.”

“Thanks Ms. Stenson.” He said and loped down the stairs like a baby giraffe, all legs and no place to put them.

Carrie eyed the case. The quick diversion would give her just enough time. Luckily there was only one key on Freddy’s key ring small enough to fit the case.  She popped it open and removed the amulet from its stand. Carefully taking the pin out of her purse, she inserted it where it was to go and a picture slid out the opening in the top. It was a locket with a key more or less. Carrie studied the picture for a brief second. It was clearly the governor when he was a child, but what did that have to do with anything? Hearing voices, she shut the case quietly and locked it tight. Freddy never saw what she did, but his girl had caught a quick glimpse. And with the shrewd eyes of a young lady bordering on the thin walkway between girlhood and womanhood, she recognized the pleading in Carrie’s eyes and said nothing. They embraced as do old friends and Carrie left after thanking Freddy profusely.

Carrie drove to the restaurant, a quiet out of the way place a mile from the house she was staying in. She had not been here with Charlie so it did not seem wrong to go. She parked the car and got out and dodging between the raindrops she ran inside. She left her headlights on but she never even noticed.

Jon was waiting for her. He sat at a table looking deep in thought. Studying his hands as though they had the answers to life’s questions. He stood as Carrie entered and they embraced. He kissed her on the mouth, but surely to the casual observer it was a kiss of friendship, not one of lovers who had been apart so long.

They exchanged pleasantries while waiting for the food. He told her of the comings and goings of all of their friends in Philadelphia. He gave her the letter that Lea had sent for her. Carrie told him of the house she stayed in, of its beautiful antiques and the odd characters strewn about town. She almost shared the ghost story, but stopped herself. The story did not belong to him. It was hers and as yet she felt no need to tell it.

The pussyfooted around all evening until dessert came and then Jon broached the subject like a businessman approaches a sales pitch.

“Carrie, we are avoiding the topic tonight. Do you have an answer for me?” Carrie started to speak but he stopped her, “No not yet. I have missed you Carrie. I want you in my life. I want you to marry me and raise my children. Please. We fit so well together you and I. Can’t you see it in our cozy little house in the suburbs with our children and our dog and a minivan to get us back and forth? You will never need to write again. You invested so well and I make more then enough now for both of us. Things are looking up Carrie.”

He annoyed her. No he enraged her. Take care of his kids? Never write again? How could he think that she could stop? Give it all up at the drop of a hat? Didn’t he know by now that writing was an extension of her? It was not an occupation. It was like breathing air, like liquid coursing through her veins. It was a need not a whim.

“Jon, the problem is you want me to marry you, but on your terms. I don’t want a quiet house in the suburbs. I want children yes, but not like that. I want them to have adventure, to breath city air and country air.” She almost said to live on a ranch but she pushed it back harshly in her mind. “I want to continue my career, not stop writing. I cannot stop writing anymore then you can stop drawing. It is as much a part of me as it is to you!”

“Alright, Carrie so we keep your apartment and you can go there to write your little books when you want. And maybe we get a Sport Utility instead of a minivan but it will still work.”

Was he always this blind; this much of an imbecile that he could not see what he was doing? “Jon, they are not my little books. I am a writer and a popular one at that. I am good at what I do Jon. Perhaps if you ever took the time to read them you could see that. We do not fit well together if this is your idea of a marriage. It is all your way or not at all. No, don’t patronize me again Jon. If you cannot respect me and learn to accept me for who I am then we do not belong together.” She waited for him to say she was wrong. She wanted him to give in just a little and then she would too. If he would just show signs of respecting her, then she would say yes.

But pride is a vicious mistress and she makes a bitter enemy. Jon did not think but he spoke. He wanted to hurt her, like she was hurting him. He wanted to be the last one to finish it.  “Well I guess it is just as well that my bed was not empty while you were playing away down here.” He said with a snide smile.

Carrie stared at him dumfounded. She was outraged and hurt. It was as though he had sucker punched her. She picked up her bowl of tiramisu and very elegantly dumped it into his lap. “Maybe that will cool down your desires.” She said and left the restaurant with as much dignity as she could muster.

Tears streaming down her face she ran to her car and climbed in. She tried to start it but it would not budge. She realized too late that she had left the lights on and she slammed her head down on her hands that were resting on the steering wheel. She glanced up at the restaurant. He would be coming out soon and she would be damned if she needed him or she would let him see her cry. She got out of the car in the soaking wet rain and began to walk to her house. She kept her head held high.

Jon paid the bill and shooed away the waiters that were trying to help him clean up his suit. The sniveling young men were laughing at him. He knew it and in their place he would have done the same. He could not believe that he told her he was having an affair and in such a callous manner. He meant to never tell her. He meant to keep it a secret and not hurt her, but he could not stop himself. As he left the building he saw her car there and guessed what had happened. “The damn fool is out walking in the rain.” He said and he got into his car to try and overtake her on the road.

Carrie was halfway home when a car slowed down behind her. She did not look back, knowing it was him and she steeled herself for battle. But when the car pulled along side of her, she saw that is was not Jon but Charlie.

“Climb in.” He said and his teeth were clenched. He did not know why she was out here like this but he sure as hell would find out. Damn girl was going to kill herself if he didn’t wring her neck first.

Carrie on the other hand had no desire to let Charlie see her like this. She would not fall before two men in one night so she choked out that she was fine and continued to walk.

Charlie could hear the panic in her voice. He knew something was wrong. “Like hell you are get out of the rain and in here damn it! Or do I have to drag you in here?”

When she heard the next car turn the corner behind her she climbed in quickly enough. She said nothing but Charlie guesses quickly enough. He just didn’t expect to feel so angry about it. He gave her his coat to keep her warm and measured his words and feelings carefully before he spoke.  “It’s Jon isn’t it?”

Carrie managed to nod a yes. “Did he hurt you?” Charlie said and his fists tightened on the steering wheel.

“No, “ she said softly as she laid a hand on his arm, “Not the way you are thinking.”  He was content with that and drove her home but he took a back road just to throw the man behind him off the beaten track.

They walked into the house together and Charlie experienced no fear. His overwhelming feelings for Carrie had fast surpassed anything else. “Go on and get changed. I will make you some hot tea and some aspirin. You are bound to catch pneumonia.”

“He’s coming Charlie.” She said and her eyes pleaded with him not to be angry with her.

He saw the look but wasn’t sure how he felt about her or him or any of this yet. There would be time to sort his feelings out and she needed time as well. “I know it. Now go on and get dried off.”  That was all he could manage to say.

The pounding on the door came hard and fast and Carrie jumped to open it. Charlie stood behind her out of view but close enough to hear what they were saying.

“Go Jon, leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you near me.”

“Carrie, let me explain. I didn’t want you to find out that way. I would have told you but not that cruelly. It was a mistake…she was.  I never meant for it to happen…”

“You bastard! You had no intentions of ever telling me did you? You wanted me to marry you and go along with our lives. I would have been the perfect little wife that you were sleeping around on! Well no, not me. Go marry your little whore Jon. You belong with her.” The shrill whistle of the teakettle directed both of their attention inside and an unseen hand turned it off.

“Who is in there with you? Is there someone there?” He asked her, badgering her with his increasing temper. He was shouting.

“Just leave Jon.”

“There is someone there isn’t there? You conniving little slut! You were shacked up down here the whole time…”

Charlie could hold back no longer. No one would talk to her like that while he was there. He stepped up to the door. Carrie started to protest but a look in his eyes and she thought better of it. She suddenly knew how his employees felt. No one would mess with this man when he was angry.

“The lady asked you to leave I believe.” He said in a quiet and deadly controlled voice.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Jon and yet he backed down the steps as he said it.

“I am her friend and your worst nightmare if you don’t get the hell out of here now.” He said and with that Jon got in the car and left. Charlie quietly closed the door but kept his back to Carrie. He did not want to face her now. She had gone out with this man on a date and even though he knew she had every right, it still hurt him. He got a hold of his feelings before he turned around to her.

“Charlie, I…”  he stopped her with a wave of his hand. He got her the hot tea and the aspirin. He made her go up the steps and wrapped the blankets around her She told him the story, the arguments they had while he put her in bed. He kissed her forehead gently and he told himself it was just to see if she had a temperature the way his mother used to do.

“You are burning up. I am leaving your cell phone here. You call me if you need me. I am going to call the doctor and have him come over tomorrow and I will have Buffy bring you some food that won’t kill you. I hope Cook’s soups are safe.” Carrie managed a weakened smile at his joke. “I think it is best that I leave.” She nodded her understanding and was already drifting into an exhausted slumber as he got up to leave.

They both needed time and he told himself this was best. He would not be a rebound romance for her and with one last look he got in his car and drove away.

Chapter Twenty: Revelations

The morning found Carrie with a tired and achy body. Sneezes took her as soon as she opened her eyes. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin and she was not able to get warm. “Damn it!” she said to herself. “Why did I walk home in the rain?” You know why you walked home in the rain because Jon hurt you and because calling Charlie would have resulted in a war that you were not ready to fight. Better to keep it to yourself and get the flu then to hurt him or make him angry. But in the end, she had anyway.  Weakly she arose from her bed, dragging her comforter with her. She carefully made her way down the steps. Everything seemed a blur. She poured herself some orange juice. Sipping it, Carrie wandered into the living room.

She sat in the rocking chair, wrapping the blanket closely around her. Her body was chilled,], yet her fever had spiked to 104. Gazing into the fire seemed to relax hut as she stared, she felt drained. The crackling of the logs on the fireplace was providing a constant rhythm that was lulling her into sleep. A sudden chill swept through her body, as the shadows on the wall seemed to take form. She stared in silence as she watched the eerie tableau play out before her eyes.

The shapes of her hallucination resembled dancers, dancers in long gowns and old-fashioned suits. They were drawing her into their festivities, extending their arms in greeting and she went with them into their merrymaking, feeling at once accepted and at home. Sleep overtook her and her dreams became reality, Carrie became Susannah.

Susannah’s Dance

Susannah felt welcomed at once. Bolstered by the many society women who had quickly become her friends, her nervousness disappeared at attending the Governor’s ball. Why she should be nervous was beyond her. It was accepted that she would go to her brother’s home without her husband. People would not think twice about it. No one would talk. But still she wished that Stephen was by her side. Why on earth did he have to leave again? Sometimes she swore that the boat meant more to him then their marriage.

Susannah was a beautiful site to behold that night. Men were gawking at her from all around the room. They would fill her dance card quickly. The Governor noticed her from across the crowded dance floor and when the first quadrille began, he would have the opportunity to get close to her; to touch her hands, to absorb the scent of her body, to feel the glossy tresses. William’s thirst for her grew. He hungered after her just as he had done all those years ago. He wanted to claim her for his own, his sweet innocent little “sister.”

Her auburn hair danced in the soft light of flames that were cast in the room. Her beautiful silken tendrils were framing her delicate features. They cascaded over the gossamer gown. With wings she could have been a fairy and indeed was near so in spirit. So happy was her heart in her new love. So blissful, innocent, and childlike was she still. It drove men crazy.

Finally, the steps of the dance led him to her. “Susannah.“ he said as their hands touched. Nervously she nodded back to him, “Governor.”   She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, her mistrust growing with every step. She had not liked William from the first day they met and that had not changed. This queasy feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. Something terrible was going to happen; she could feel it.

The music ended and Susannah turned quickly endeavoring to fold into the throng of people crowded around the ballroom. She felt his clammy hand on her arm, steadying her, holding her fast in place. He used that hand to guide her to the balcony.

“Your Honor,” said Susannah, effecting a deep courtesy,

“Come now, Susannah we need not be so formal. After all we know each other…” he paused, searching for the right word and with an evil grin he replied, “intimately.”

Susannah, more naïve then many her age and of her status in life, missed his inference. She stared at him, not comprehending what he wanted.

“Tonight, my dear, you will come to me after the ball. You will join me in the private quarters.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but I cannot possibly join you in your quarters. I am a married woman, and it would not be proper. It would be indecent without Stephen.”

“Oh, you mistake me Susannah. I want you and you alone to come to me. Like I came to you all those years ago.”

The flames of the torches in the courtyard below illuminated his features in an obscene light. Darkness enveloped the man, evil emanating from him that the devil himself would have been envious of.

“Perhaps my lovely,” he said as one finger cupped her chin, “You have forgotten that.”

Susannah got the distinct impression that the man was a snake, his skin so cold and clammy.

“Forgotten?” she struggled out the words as fear gripped her throat. “That…that was you? All those nightmares, the monster…you were the monster. They were real…. You …you Bastard!”

Her hand reached out to strike him in the face, but his vice-like grip stopped it in mid-air. And in the darkness, he laughed, a deep monstrous laugh that echoed into the emptiness below them.

“Now Susannah, you will not make a scene,” he snarled, “What would all of your society friends think?”

“I care not what they think, and I will not come to you this evening! I will never come to you. I would not dishonor my husband in that way.”

“If you will not come to me dearest little one, I shall have to disclose our little secret to your husband.”

“Tell him! Go on! See what it gets you. Stephen loves me, he will forgive me!”

“Do you think so my sweet? I admire your faith in him. Your assumption that he will forgive you is very touching. Now if it were me and I discovered my new marriage was based on lies why I might banish my wife from my home and disgrace her like the untruthful wench she was.”

“Stephen would not do that to me, and should you tell him I will be forced to tell this town about the monster that resides in governor’s clothing.”

He laughed at her again, “My precious angel you are truly a fool. You think that people will believe you? I have power. You are a conniving lying wench who tricked her way into society by climbing a social ladder that she had no right to be on. No, my pet, I think they will believe me their esteemed and respected governor.”

Susannah scoffed at him and his mindless drivel but somewhere in her heart she knew he was right. She was so unsure of herself that she knew not if Stephen would forgive her. She knew only that this would ruin her and bring him down with her and it was a risk that she could not take. She nodded her assent meekly to Satan in the guise of a man. And she melted into the throng of friends, determined to let no one see her shameful secret. Stephen must never know.

Carrie faded in and out of consciousness and was very sick when Buffy found her that afternoon. The doctor had come but could not get in and incorrectly assumed that she had left the house. Buffy was frightened by the state of her friend. She called Charlie immediately. The doctor had returned and elected to treat Carrie at home unless her symptoms got worse. Charlie agreed but it worried him. He was pacing feverishly. Finally, he moved across the floor and found a seat. The chair groaned under his girth; it’s old frame not willing to support another hardship.

The next trip into the shadows, found Carrie very weak, not much better in her dreams then she was in real life. She was sick very, very sick and broken hearted or at least Susannah was.

Susannah’s Secret

Susannah walked to out the windows and to the walkway on the side of her bedroom. She hated this place and loved it at the same time. She felt so ill. Where was he? Why must he travel like this? He had no need to be a merchant. His family was wealthy. They could have lived comfortably. But Stephen would not be a kept man. He insisted on going away. And he had. He would return in a fortnight. He would come back to find her body changed. She was already swollen with child. The child, she thought would be a son, but only in name. And only one other knew the secret and that other would never tell.

Carrie sat up in bed. It took all her strength. Her wild fevered eyes searched the darkness. “Charlie, Charlie!!!!!!” she screamed, and he bolted up the stairs as fast as he could go.

“What? What do you need are you all right?” he asked while he flipped on the dim bedside light.

He looked like hell she noted though she had no idea why. “He raped her! It was his son!”

“What? Carrie you are delusional, lay down and get some rest.”

“No, no don’t you see?” she was pleading with him again. “Don’t you see? It was not Stephen’s little boy that is why she haunts. That is what she wants me to know. She was raped. William raped her.” She managed to tell him before she fell back asleep.

Charlie ran a wet washcloth over her head. Her fever was down dramatically. She was on the mend. He turned to leave the bedroom but her small voice stopped him once again.

“Charlie, I love you.” She said and went back to sleep.

Another delusion? He had to get out of here. She was on the mend it was time for him to go. He stopped to wake Buffy and tell her that all was well. Lea would be there the next day and Carrie would be fine. Then maybe she could wrap her head around what she wanted from him and what he wanted from her.

Chapter Twenty-One: Recovery

Carrie sleep was disturbed this time, not by a dream, but rather from a soft weeping in the corner of her room. She looked around and discerned a shadow in the darkness. It was Susannah; she knew her as well as she knew herself. Susannah was still there. The mystery was not yet solved.

“Susannah why are you weeping? What is it? What have I not yet learned or done for you?”

The silhouette in the corner stared vacantly at her. Carrie thought she heard a voice or was it just her imagination.  “Tell him, that it was an accident. Tell him I love him.” And the whispering stopped. Sleep claimed her again and this time it was a nightmare.

Susannah’s Passing

Their second child was due any day. Stephen was getting bigger. He was eight already and she could hardly believe it.  She was happy but guarded. The winds had spoken to her last night. The breeze told her to beware. The same urgency that she felt when a storm was nigh, and Stephen was at sea. That was how she felt now. And it was more then this child growing inside of her.

Stephen had known. Somewhere deep in his heart he had always known that there was a secret. His eldest son looked so much like his uncle. He had never thought twice about it. Stephen resembled his mother’s side. It was not uncommon. But then there was this. William passed today. He left Stephen Murray III all his money. The people were laughing at him. Men at the bar had been astute enough to see what he had missed. Stephen was not his son. He was the son of William and his wife, William’s sister. It was sick. It was horrid. It was a wonder the boy was not deranged. How could she bed down with her own brother and then pretend to love him all these years! He was angry, nay he was furious. He would throw the harlot out of his life… forever. But first he would know the reason that she hurt him. And then he would raise his two children on his own. The one she was carrying and Stephen III. She would know them not. It was a fate worse than death.

He walked into the manse, the one his mother had built for them as a wedding present. He ascended the stairs and found her in the bedroom, the harlot, the treacherous whore. “Where is the boy?” he asked, his anger radiating from him.

“Why Stephen dear what is the matter? He is at school of course.” Susannah replied, maintaining calm and yet she knew that he had somehow found out.

“Explain this!” he said as he threw the newspaper down in front of her.

She read the headline.  So, he had screwed her in death as he had in life. His last act would lead to her destruction. He had left his son his vast estate. “I can explain.” She looked at him and saw the pain and the anger. He would not forgive. “It was not meant to happen; it was not meant to be. He took without asking Stephen. He demanded I come to him.”

“And could you nay have said no? Good God woman could you not have exposed the man for what he was, rather than lie to me all these years?”

“You would have killed him and then what good would that have done? You would have been executed yourself. I could not tell you or you would have learned.” She stopped herself she said too much.

But he caught it. Stephen caught the last part. “Learned? Learned what?”

She told him the whole miserable truth, hoping that he could somehow forgive her.

“Our whole relationship was built on lies then? Did you ever truly love me? Get out of my sight you disgust me!” But in his heart, he did not mean it.

“Stephen, please,” she begged him the tears were already spilling over her cheeks.

“I said GET OUT!” He shouted and he raised his hand. He would never have struck her it was just a threat. But she ran, she feared him, and she ran. And then she fell down, down and down and further still and in the end, there was total darkness.

Stephen came to her. He screamed and cried what had he done? There was blood everywhere, and the baby, the baby was coming. Stephen deliveed him but by the time the doctor came Susannah was gone. She had never awakened. The baby would live, his son. But she was gone from him forever.

Carrie was tired but she woke out of her troubled sleep. She knew now why the house was haunted. She knew the story; the whole frightening and horrible tragedy and she knew that once the truth was out there, the haunting would stop. They needed her; they needed the truth to be told. They needed it so that they could reunite their love again. And she would do what they wanted her to.

She called out for anyone to come and was delighted when she saw Leah respond. She hugged Leah and held her close.

“It is good to see you again. I have missed you.” Carrie told her.

“It is good to see you up and about again dearest. You had me scared there for a while.” 

“I have such a story to tell you,” Carrie said “and I need to get it down. Can you get me my laptop?”

“Uh uh no can do! You need to rest no work until you are better. I don’t want that man of yours taking my head off.”

Carrie racked her brains. “But Lea, Jon and I broke up. I remember that’s how I got sick.”

“Well to tell you the truth I am thankful you did. I can’t stand him. He was arrogant. I know all about you and Jon. That was coming for a while. You just felt too honor bound to let yourself see it. I was talking about Charlie. He is delicious.  I want all the details.”

And the two girls sat there and gabbed like teenagers about men and their comings and goings. Carrie wanted to tell Leah the whole ghostly story, but she needed to get it down on paper first and she had a long recovery ahead of her the doc said. Theree was plenty of time to do it.

Chapter Twenty-two: The Old Man Was Right

Charlie and Carrie had taken it slow as she got back on her feet again. She had been confined to the house for so long she could not stand it. He romanced her though every day. He always thought to stop and bring her a surprise or found a new way to cook her a dinner and sometimes they were even edible.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Carrie was climbing the walls. The doctor had said that she could go with Charlie to get her parents from the airport only if she promised to rest and let Charlie wait on her. Carrie promised to behave and she could hardly wait to see them again. She wanted to show them her book, Susannah’s book, before anyone else. It was after all dedicated to them and to Charlie, only he didn’t know it yet. She had fallen head over heels in love with him and she just hope that this time it was right.

“Susannah if you are here just give me a sign will you? Just for old times sake?” She said to the air mainly because once she wrote the book the haunting had ceased just as she suspected. But much to her surprise she heard the faint strains of the music box. The lid was open though it sat untouched inside the cabinet where she had put it so many months ago. Carrie smiled.

“I don’t understand what you are telling me Susannah but I will in time I suppose.” She said and she shook her head, smiling.

Charlie pulled up right on time and fussed over her. He made sure that she was bundled up from head to toe before he would let her leave the house. “It’s a shame we never got to have the open house on Halloween,” Carrie said as they left. “I think Susannah would have liked it.”

“I do too,” He said as he helped her in and planted a kiss on her lips. She was all his now he was sure of it.

He drove her to Oak Bluffs and Carrie questioned the route but was abruptly silenced by his, “I know where I’m going. Hush woman.”

“Charlie, I don’t want to miss their flight, please.”

“We have time.”  He pulled up along side an old wood building. The sign read The Flying Horses. Charlie got out and helped Carrie down. She hesitated but followed him inside curiosity peaked. 

Charlie flipped one switch to turn only the soft lights of the carousel on, leaving the rest of the room in darkness.

“Oh it is beautiful.” She said and rushed to touch it.

“It is the oldest operating platform carousel in the nation. And I remembered something special about it.”

“What’s that?” Carrie asked intrigued.

“Hop on and I’ll show you.” She climbed aboard a wooden horse on the inside track and Charlie climbed on the one next to her. “Maestro!”  Charlie directed and a faceless person in the shadows turned on the music and motion.  Carrie was momentarily confused that there was someone else there with them, but the thought left her head as she recognized the tune from the music box. She inhaled sharply.

“Thanks Susannah,” she mumbled as she found her sign that this was the right one for her.

“Can you reach it?” Charlie asked?

“Hmm? Reach what?” Carrie asked, she had not been listening she was lost in thought.

“The brass ring of course.”

“Oh what fun I have never tried,” Carrie said and she missed it on her first go round, but grabbed it on her second.

“I grabbed it, I’ve got the….” Her voice trailed as she noticed the other ring tied to it with a white satin ribbon.

”It isn’t brass but will it do? Will you marry me Carridelle?”

Her head was spinning and not from circular motion of the carousel. “YES!” she squealed in delight. “Yes, Charlie I will marry you.” She exclaimed and as the Carousel came to a halt, she was greeted with a round of applause.

As the lights came on, she could see people, lots of people. There were people from town there, her parents, Leah and her husband, Buffy and Cook, and even Freddy and his girl were there.

And there in the center of it all stood the old man, who she now knew as Charlie’s grandfather. He walked forward and gave her a squeeze.  “I told you it was no accident,” he said, “They chose you! And so did he.” And she hugged him back before all the other people there thronged her

But she really wanted to tell him he was sort of wrong… they chose each other.