(This is the latest installment of the series that starts with The Old Mill. The previous chapter was Sean (Part 2). The Table of Contents is here)
(Note – this is part 1 of a two part chapter.)
I took my eyes off of the road for a second to glance at Lyndsey. Her face was slightly illuminated in the dark by the dashboard lights. A surge of emotion ripped through my body, feelings I hadn’t felt since the early days of my relationship with Becky, almost 15 years in the past. My right hand slipped off of the steering wheel and onto Lyndsey’s thigh. I could see the smile out of the corner of my eye. She put her own right hand on mine and caressed it while threading her left arm under my arm and putting her left hand onto my thigh. Her left hand lightly squeezed my thigh in rhythm to the music.
“Oh, this used to be one of Jess’ favorites,” she said as a new song came on the radio. She hummed along for a minute. “Thinking of Jess. I was met her for breakfast this morning and she was the old Jess. I always wonder why sometimes she is so, well, present, and other times it’s like, well…”
“It’s like someone pretending to be Jess,” I said.
“Exactly! It’s like someone going through the motions of being Jess so that nobody would know that it isn’t her.”
“I have a theory about that.”
“Ha! I knew it. Does it have something to do with Martha or the Goode mansion?”
“Uhm, yes.” Continue reading
(This is the latest installment of the series that starts with The Old Mill. The previous chapter was Sean (Part 1). The Table of Contents is here)
(Note – this is part 2 of a two part chapter. Part 1)
A hand fell heavily on my shoulder.
“Hey Gill, having trouble finding them?” It was Bill’s voice.
I was looking into an empty black space, no people were visible, no woman and no children. I turned to look at Bill. There was only him there, no other men.
“Uhm yeah, Bill. Coming in from the bright outside my eyes just didn’t want to adjust. I’m still a bit blinded.”
“Here they are.”
Several garden rakes, a hoe, a spade and a yard rake were leaning against the wall just inside of the entrance to the main building.
“Oh, I must have walk right past them. No wonder I didn’t see them. I was looking over there.” I pointed past were the woman and children had been, into the dark far corner of the building.
“Here, I’ll grab a couple,” he said. “You take the rest. Let’s go, the air in here is unhealthy.” Continue reading
(This is the latest installment of the series that starts with The Old Mill. The previous chapter was Bill Wallace. The Table of Contents is here)
(Note – this is part 1 of a two part chapter)
Bill pulled into my driveway at almost exactly 8:30. I was out of the door before his truck came to a stop. I climbed in and set my travel mug next to his.
He almost immediately started talking about a neighbor of his that I didn’t know very well. It was typical small town gossip and complaints. He had barely gotten out of my drive before I picked up my mug and sipped my coffee, just nodding at the appropriate places and saying, “A-huh,” when needed. I only half noticed that we were headed up to Amesbury Center until we turned to take the road that avoids the main village.
“We’re going to the Goode Mansion, aren’t we?” I asked.
Bill smiled. “Ay-yup.”
I had wondered why he asked me to come with him; now I knew. Continue reading
The girl at once looked out of place and yet perfectly natural as she stood in front of my house. Her colonial attire was flawless and matched the colonial houses of the neighborhood. Being a bit of an amateur historian I placed her costume at late 17th century, not too different from a classic picture of a Pilgrim girl at the first Thanksgiving. Perhaps, I thought with a laugh, she looked more like a witch’s apprentice in the Salem trials.
When we first moved in the kids used to play pranks on the old ‘haunted house’ and its new inhabitants, particularly at Halloween. As the kids got used to us living here the pranks and whispers slowly died out. Nobody had pulled a stunt like this in ages. I had to wonder what this girl heard. She couldn’t have been more than a baby when we moved in 16 years ago.
As I was closing the front door a man said, “Break the cycle.” I turned but nobody was there. Continue reading