Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

Her fright blossomed into something just short of panic. She pounded on the door with her hands and shouted, thinking someone had come into the house and pulled the door shut behind her. She had the feeling that someone was just on the other side of the door, listening to her hammering. No one answered or unlocked the door after several frantic minutes.
 

The sound of the washer chugging away on the laundry down below served to calm her a little. She sat on the top step, eyes getting accustomed to the gloom. She realized there was indirect sunlight coming in through the coal bin window. Okay, I’m locked in my basement, she thought. How am I going to get out? She felt for her cell phone in her pocket, knowing it was a fifty-fifty chance she’d put it in there or left it in the living room where she’d made her call. She felt the little business card Ruari had given her but no comforting phone.
 

She sat at the top of the stairs in the darkness and thought, well, shit. Think, girl, think. How can I unlock the door from here? No one was likely to miss her for a few days, so she couldn’t count on someone letting her out anytime soon. How had the door shut and the lock slid across? She knew she’d left the door open on purpose. Would Oscar have rubbed against it with his chin and caused it to close? If so, he couldn’t have slid the lock.

Gradually, she became aware of a soft sobbing, a moaning sound in the basement below her. The hair stood up on the back of her neck and prickled along her arms, and her heart rate picked up. Down in the dark, someone was crying like her heart would break. Marianne sat and listened transfixed. She could picture a woman rocking back and forth, hugging herself as she wept softly, trying to stifle her sound. Marianne suddenly thought the crying woman had been locked in the basement too. And she was trying not to make too much noise, maybe to deprive her captor of the satisfaction of her distress

Somehow Marianne knew it was the Angry Man who’d done this to the other woman. And to her, too. Somehow knowing who it was transformed Marianne’s fear into anger. He had to go. There was no way she was going to let his spirit stay.
 

First, she had to get out of the cellar. She went back down the steps and said uncertainly into the darkness, “Miss? I know he locked you in the basement. He just locked me in too. We’re going to get out of here. Follow me.”

She went to the coal bin, where the larger window let in dusty evening sunlight. Wanting to break it without hurting herself, she considered her options. The wicker laundry basket was not hard enough, and her sandals were rubber soled and not strong enough. She went back to the washer, opened the lid and pulled out a soaking shirt and wrapped it around her forearm. Returning to the coal bin window, she struck the glass tentatively at first. It took a few determined blows, but the window cracked and splintered. She stepped back hastily out of the way and cleared glass fragments away from the frame until she could climb out safely. She retrieved a sodden towel from the washer and laid it across the threshold so she could boost herself up and out.

She turned and called through the dark window, “Miss? Come on out. You don’t have to stay down there anymore. You’re free to go.” Did I lock my front door earlier or not? She wondered.

She had not secured her front door, and relief washed through her. She walked back into the house and over to the cellar door. It was closed and locked, but she could see the screws that held the locking mechanism in place. She found a screwdriver and spent some time unscrewing the pieces of the lock on both the door and the frame then put them into a kitchen drawer. Well, getting locked in would never happen again, she thought with satisfaction. Oscar emerged from wherever he’d been and watched her activity with interest.

It was getting darker outside. If the angry ghost was willing to lock her in the basement, what else would he do if she stayed? Sarah’s solemn face and blunt manner of speech came to mind, and Marianne hesitated. Marianne didn’t want to be here by herself just now. Hadn’t Kelly said that Sarah liked Marianne at the end of their visit? Locating her cell phone on the couch where she’d left it, she dialed Sarah’s number.

“Hello?” Sarah’s voice sounded curt.

“Hi, this is Marianne Singleton. You came to my house yesterday?”

“Oh hi, Marianne.” Her voice thawed several degrees. “What’s up?”

“Well,” she took a deep breath, “I’m pretty sure the Angry Man’s ghost just locked me in the basement. I got out by breaking a window and climbing out, and I took the locking mechanism off the door so it can’t happen again. My question is, should I stay here overnight? If he’s willing to lock me in, what else is he willing to do?” Her voice squeaked.

Sarah expelled a loud breath and said, “Wow. Okay, let me think. Tell me what happened exactly, including what you felt and heard.”

Marianne proceeded to tell her everything she could remember.

“Can you feel him now?” Sarah asked intently.

Marianne put the phone down in her lap and closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to “listen” with her emotional sensors. She picked up the phone again and said, “I don’t think so. He kind of comes and goes. I told him this morning that this was my house, and he didn’t live here any more, and I got to pick the colors for the walls. I also promised to clean up the boxes I put upstairs. Maybe he was mad about that?”

“You said you thought he’d locked the crying woman in the basement in the past. He sounds like a real sweetheart of a guy. Any leads on who they might have been?”

“I did some research today.” Marianne gave her the abbreviated version of what she’d found. “I was going to look into several names tomorrow or the next day. I also called Mrs. Thomas, the lady who owns the house, and guess what? She knew there were ghosts here! She said she didn’t want to bother me with that in case I didn’t feel them on my own.” Marianne relayed her conversation with Lily Thomas.

“I don’t like the sound of Adam or Arnold Sullivan, whatever his name is, but you don’t have any further information to go on, right?” Sarah commented.

“Nothing.”

“It’s hard to say how far an angry spirit will go to hassle the living. I’ve encountered some pretty nasty spirits and heard of others. It’s possible that giving you bad dreams is the worst he can do since you took the lock off the door,” Sarah said dubiously.
 

 
“That does
not
make me feel very safe!” Marianne exclaimed.

“Hold on.” Sarah covered the mouthpiece, and Marianne heard her muffled voice say, “Kelly, could we have Marianne come over for the night? Yeah? Okay.” She uncovered the phone and said, “You could stay here for the night, if you felt unsafe and needed a place to stay.”

Marianne considered and then said, “I’d really appreciate that. I haven’t been getting much sleep, and I don’t think tonight will be any different.”

“Okay. Kelly can come get you, if you like, or I can give you directions.”

Marianne opted for the ride and hung up.
 

“Hey, Oscar.” He’d curled up on the sofa next to her while she sat, and she told him she was going to be out for the night. She promised to come back first thing in the morning to feed him.
 

She was just finishing throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, scooping the litter box, and refreshing the cat’s water when the doorbell rang.

Kelly, dressed in a long white crinkle skirt and a navy T-shirt, stood on the stoop, looking concerned. “Hey, you all right? Sarah said you had a scare.”
 

“I’m okay, just weirded out. Let me grab my stuff. Do you think it’ll be okay to leave Oscar here?”

“Sarah didn’t say anything to me about evacuating everybody. So, he’s probably okay by himself for a night,” Kelly assured her.

Marianne locked the front door behind her and followed Kelly down to the old Volvo at the curb. “Oh, wait a minute! I had to break a window in the basement to get out. Should I just leave it?”

“Let me see.” Kelly accompanied her around the side of the house and looked at the damage. “You really don’t want raccoons or skunks in your basement, trust me. Let’s see if you’ve got anything.” She found an old piece of plywood in the garage that would do, dragged it back out to the window, and leaned it against the frame. “That should hold for tonight.”

Kelly drove her through town and down one of the side streets to a part of town Marianne hadn’t explored yet. It was several long blocks from Main and about a block beyond the last of the cheek-by-jowl houses of town, surrounded by old trees and a bit of lawn.

“Thanks,” Marianne said with relief. “I really appreciate this. You guys are incredible to take a complete stranger into your house on a moment’s notice.”

Kelly glanced her way and said, “Honestly, Sarah’s really glad to meet someone who’s like her. Most people either can’t sense spirits at all or think those who can are faking it, lying, or worse, nut cases. Even if they do have a paranormal experience, they don’t want to believe it or somehow blame the messenger. All the same,” she added dryly, “if someone is in trouble with something they can’t explain, they somehow think Sarah can help them out.”

Marianne was still stuck on “someone like her.” Was she? She hadn’t really encountered ghosts or spirits before that she was aware of. All she had was the weird dreaming ability, which was sometimes so cryptic, it made no sense at all and wasn’t very helpful. She wasn’t sure if she was glad of the comparison or disturbed by it.

The women lived in a small white house set back from the road, surrounded by trees. The last of a deep blue sky showed the outlines of the treetops, and the porch light was glowing a homey yellow-white. Marianne was reminded of a Magritte painting she’d seen at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

 
Sarah greeted them at the front door, her spectacles glinting in the porch light, and held it open while Marianne brought her bag inside. Sarah was dressed much more casually than Marianne had last seen her in a pair of roomy linen slacks with a draw string waist, a short-sleeved button up blouse with little blue and pink flowers on it, and her hair was loosely tucked behind her ears. She’d made peppermint tea, and the three women sat at the wooden kitchen table to drink it.
 

Marianne expressed her thanks again to her hosts. “I really appreciate your giving me a place to stay tonight.” Both women murmured, “Not a problem.” Then Marianne glanced at Sarah whose lack of a smile still seemed forbidding, and added a little hesitantly, “Kelly said on the way over that you were happy to meet someone like you. I’m not sure I am.”

Sarah shot Kelly a frown, and Kelly replied with an insouciant one-shouldered shrug. Sarah then turned to their guest and said matter-of-factly, “You said you have dreams that the spirits in your house are telling you things. You can feel their presence when they are there.” Sarah put her mug down and leaned forward, gazing at her intently. “You acknowledge that they might exist at all. Most people ignore them completely. I don’t know how long you’ve been able to do this, but it makes you more like me than not.”

Marianne looked troubled. “I told you I’ve had dreams that came true before.” She told an abbreviated version of her story. Sarah and Kelly listened attentively, asking a few questions to clarify. “But I’ve never had dreams about ghosts before I moved to Violet Lane,” Marianne finished.
 

“You have had a hell of a year, girl,” Kelly said fervently, and Sarah murmured an assent. “Let’s hope your ex doesn’t ever figure out where you’ve gone. Maybe your abilities with spirits are a latent talent?” She offered.

“Certainly possible.” Sarah nodded. She hesitated then said, “I’ve been able to see and hear spirits when they wanted me to all my life.”

Kelly raised her dark eyebrows in surprise, but Sarah took a sip of her tea and went on. “The first playmate I had was my grandmother who used to come visit me in my room when I was three and four years old. I didn’t know until later that she had died shortly after I was born. My mother thought I was the easiest baby in the world.” She smiled nostalgically at the memory. “She didn’t know about the free ‘daycare’ her mother was supplying! Grandma was sad her daughter couldn’t see or hear her anymore but was glad that I could. I had no idea that the nice lady who stayed with me wasn’t alive! I did think it was strange that mom never responded to her, but Grandma made me keep her a secret so mom wouldn’t freak out.” She took another sip and said, “Kel, maybe Marianne would like some of those cookies you got the other day?” Kelly got up and rummaged in the cupboard. “When I got older I saw less of Grandma, but she always showed up if I was sad or angry. She gave me a lot of good advice. After l left for college I hardly saw her at all.”

Sarah’s expression sobered as she stared at the tabletop. “I also saw a lot of people while I was growing up who seemed pretty real to me, but I came to realize that they got ignored by everyone else because they were spirits not flesh and blood. They seemed to know I could see and hear them and sought me out if they had problems or needed to communicate with the living. After some bad experiences, I learned to be really careful how I passed their messages along. Mostly the dead have been more appreciative of me than the living have been,” she finished sadly.

Kelly put a box of peanutbutter chocolate chip cookies from the co-op bakery on the table along with a handful of napkins and squeezed her partner’s shoulder, saying, “I’ve been looking out for Sarah since we met in grade school. It bugged the crap out of me when other kids or the teachers made fun of her or hassled her for being weird. I got a reputation for pounding kids who picked on her, and after awhile they left her alone.” Her expression was both fierce and affectionate. She reseated herself at the table and broke a cookie in half, offering her partner the bigger side.

“I’d wait for her to get out of detention, and we’d walk home together,” Sarah said fondly, taking the sweet morsel and smiling warmly.

Marianne was aware of a deep connection between the two women and felt an ache in her chest. “It must be wonderful to have someone looking out for you. I used to think Geoffrey would do that for me, but after a while I realized he would not endanger his own career or reputation to do anything for me.”