Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ ago—that first day of a long journey leading him here. Nate had been right, of course. He could not let Elise’s memory continue to haunt him. He may be alone, but there was no reason to be afraid of that.

      Chapter 12

      Elise crept toward Tom, her tiny feet dragging. Although they made no sound, her feet left faint indentations in the velvety carpet. She’d taken a short nap in front of the warm fire in the study, now she was bored. Curling up beside Tom on the leather couch where he sat with his head bowed and resting heavily in his hands, his burden of pain evident by his posture, she relished the image of his pained face, his eyes red and swollen, tortured by countless sleepless nights and salty tears shed for her, his lost love.

      Seeming to sense her presence in the lonely room, Tom turned abruptly. He looked right through her.

      Elise caught her breath, her moment of joy shattered. The remnants of a smile gave life to Tom’s face. She’d presumed he would be racked with grief. The bastard was smiling. Elise snarled and disappeared into the darkness.

      Chapter 13

      Outside, the storm began to wane—lightning ceased, thunder subsided, rain beat more gently with soft, pattering sounds against the clapboard. In the distance someone ran along the shore playing tag with the crashing waves. Tom watched transfixed, wondering who in the world would be out in a storm like this.

      Tom whirled around. From far away he heard a door slamming. Just the wind, right? He must have left a window open somewhere. Looking back out onto the shore, Tom saw no sign of the mysterious person on the beach. He knew he better go and find out where that open window was. He walked up the stairs to begin what would be a futile search.

      Chapter 14

      Tom wandered about the house pulling curtains, opening shutters. The kitten was awake and meowed to go out. “Do you really want out in this weather, little fellow? Well, okay. But stay out of the tree. Don’t go wandering off and forget where you live either.” Tom carried the cat to the kitchen. “I’ll leave this door open a crack so you can come get back in. With no hesitation, the cat bounded out the door. Tom made a pot of strong coffee, waited impatiently for it to finish, then poured himself a mug to take upstairs.

      As the sun broke through the clouds, Tom felt rejuvenated. He decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in his bedroom unpacking his personal belongings. For several hours he unpacked his clothes and arranged the few books he’d packed, adding them to the collection in the bookcases. The kitten found its way back into the house and up into Tom’s bedroom. He curled up into a tiny ball in front of the fireplace. “Looks like this is going to be your bedroom, too. Works for me.”

      When Tom was done unpacking, he went downstairs. Looking out the picture window, he saw it was raining again. Half a mile out a small boat tossed on the turbulent swells. It was late afternoon; the setting sun cast long shadows of the cliffs onto the sandy beach. In the distance an ocean liner sailed toward the eastern horizon, the fishing boat had turned, probably headed to the harbor ten miles north.

      Tom added wood to the fireplaces in the downstairs rooms, glad for the extra warmth. The aging furnace failed to adequately heat the many rooms in the house. He looked forward to a light dinner and a good book in front of the fire tonight. His mood of desperation had lifted. The house felt warm and comfortable. A soothing, light rain gently pattered against the windows. He read for a few hours. A well-written mystery kept his mind occupied and free from any kind of reality. A sense of contentment and of being home settled over Tom.

      At eleven, Tom took a sleeping pill and went to bed. He lay in bed for what seemed like hours waiting for the pill to work and carry him into dreamless oblivion. As he finally started to drift off, he heard sounds from the attic. Someone walked back and forth on the floor above him. He tried to rouse himself, but the pill kicked in. He slept a dreamless, drug-induced sleep, not waking until seven.

      Tom got up, dressed and had a light breakfast. As he sipped his second cup of strong coffee, he tried to remember—with no luck—what had been so disturbing to him as he drifted into sleep last night. He poured another cup of coffee and carried it to the terrace. Tom rejoiced in the beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, the air was crisp and smelled salty and clean, birds sang as the day renewed itself. He, too, felt vibrant and refreshed for a change; he was happy to be alive.

      Bundling up in an old fisherman sweater someone had left on the back hook, he headed for the beach. The kitten bounced after him and, although the kitten refused to go in the ocean, he stayed on the beach scampering about, chasing after bits of leaves blowing in the breeze. Tom walked along the sand gathering up shells and stuffing them into his pockets. Bending over, he picked up a handful of flat stones and threw them, watching them skip across the water’s surface. Up the beach he saw two children playing tag with the waves. Maybe it was one of them he’d seen last night playing in the tide. The boys chased the huge waves as they rolled in and out. Even from this distance Tom could hear their delightful laughter. When they spotted him, he waved and yelled, “Good morning.” They ran down the beach toward him.

      “Hey, mister, are you the guy who just moved into the house up there?” The younger of the two boys yelled.

      “Sure am. I’m Tom Gardner,” he hollered back.

      The youngest boy ran up to Tom, his hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jimmy Harrison, and this is my brother, Billy.” Jimmy pointed to the older boy who stood some feet back. “Hey, is that your cat?” Jimmy asked, a big grin on his face. “I love cats, but Mother won’t let me have one. She says they’re too hairy and messy. She hates anything messy—that’s for sure. Can I pet him?” Tom nodded, and Jimmy got down on his knees and slowly put his hand out toward the kitten. “What’s his name?”

      “That’s a good question. I haven’t named him yet. Just found him yesterday. Rescued him from up in a tree. Any suggestions?”

      Jimmy’s brother, who hadn’t spoken a word, walked over and pulled Jimmy up by his arm. “Come on. We have to get home. Now! Mother will wonder where we are.”

      “No she won’t. She told us to stay out of her way today. She’s busy with house cleaning. I’m staying here with Mr. Gardner and the kitten. You go home if you want,” he snapped, pulling free from his brother’s grasp.

      “I’m gonna tell Mother you’re talking to a stranger. You know what she’ll do to you for that,” Billy said as he turned and began walking up the beach. “Are you coming or not?” he yelled over his shoulder.

      “You’re a pain in the neck, Billy. Besides, Mr. Gardner isn’t a stranger—he’s our neighbor. Go ahead and tell on me. See if I care!” he yelled at his brother. Jimmy, his face red with anger and embarrassment, said to Tom, “Don’t mind Billy. He’s always like that, always trying to get me in hot water.”

      “I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” Tom said

      “Don’t worry. I won’t. Hey, did you really mean I could help you name your cat?” he asked grinning.

      Tom knelt down on the sand beside the boy. “Sure did. Any ideas?”

      “Hmm. Let me think a minute. What about Tiger? No. I don’t like that. He doesn’t look anything like a tiger.”

      Tom looked away so Jimmy couldn’t see him smiling. He didn‘t want him to think he was laughing at him, but Jimmy was taking the naming so seriously he actually looked distressed.

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