Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ with the boys all the time. She needs constant adoration—which she certainly does not get from her kids.”

      “What a selfish women. Such a shame for her boys. At least they’re lucky to have you to stand up for them.” Tom smiled at Sara and brushed a stray hair from her lips. He pulled her to him, and they snuggled contentedly on the sofa. The fire was warm; the afternoon sun was beginning to shine into the room turning the oak paneled walls a soft, golden brown. “What about your family, Sara? Do you have anyone besides Vivian and the boys?”

      “No, I was an only child. Both of my parents were killed in an auto accident when I was twenty two.”

      “I’m so sorry. It must have been very difficult for you.” Tom stroked her hair gently.

      “Yes, for a long time I didn’t know what to do, but I was always very independent—that helped. They left me enough of an inheritance so I was able to complete my college classes at Boston University and earn my teaching degree. I still miss them terribly, of course, but what can I do? We all have our crosses to bear.” Tom massaged her neck as she continued.

      “I taught English and Math at a private school. But I hated it.” She smiled sadly. “I liked teaching, but felt too confined. Living on everyone else’s schedule, teaching only what they wanted me to teach, was too regimented for me.” She stared into the fire.

      “Hold that thought. Let me get something for us to drink,” Tom said as he stood up and then disappeared through the doorway. He returned carrying a tray of coffee and muffins. “Mmm. Nell’s been baking. Have one.” He set the tray on the table in front of them. “Okay, now tell me, how did you go from teaching in a private school to working for Vivian?”

      “I asked the school to terminate my contract. I was involved in a . . . situation.” She looked nervously at Tom.

      “What happened?” he asked.

      “I guess you should hear it from me, not Vivian. That way you’ll know what really happened. Vivian tends to put her own slant on things. Makes her life more exciting to add as many torrid, if untrue, details that she can.

      “I was having an affair with one of the professors at the school.” She glanced quickly at Tom. He frowned slightly.

      “Go on,” he said softly.

      “It was a stupid mistake. And apparently I wasn’t his first—he had affairs with several other staff members. I didn’t know that at the time. Then I heard that he was dating one of my colleagues while he was seeing me. I reacted quite badly, waited to catch them alone together and confront them. The other woman was the school’s principal. She was livid. Like me, she had no idea he was seeing us both.”

      Tom said, “What a mess. Must have been a pretty painful experience. Was he your first love?”

      “Oh, I didn’t love him, and no, he wasn’t my first. I was lonely . . . and bored. I needed some excitement in my life. He was it. I wasn’t all that naïve. I should have known better. Anyway, it all blew up. I chose to keep quiet about the principal’s affair. In exchange, she agreed to terminate my contract and give me a good recommendation. It was a good reason to leave. I needed a major change in my life.” She took Tom’s cup from him. “That’s about it. Not very pretty, but a mistake I learned from.” She poured him another cup of coffee.

      “I’ve made my share of mistakes, too,” Tom said. “Well, we can’t go back. Have to move forward, don’t we?” He reached out, grabbing her hand. “Are you glad you met me, Sara?”

      “Yes! You are my knight in shining armor—as trite as that sounds.” She giggled. “I’m growing very fond of you, sir! I’ve even risked the wrath of Vivian to sneak time with you. Seriously, Tom, you are a joy to me.”

      Chapter 32

      Helen and Gabe Lindeman studied the young woman as she slept curled in a blanket on the old bed that had once been a servant’s. They smiled at each other, completely delighted. Helen was the first to touch the woman. She thrilled as her hands made contact with the silky hair, as soft and wispy as a child’s. She marveled at the golden color, so like her own had been when she was young. Motioning Gabe to come to her side, Helen whispered, “Gabe, come and feel how smooth her skin is. She can’t be very old either, maybe thirty, don’t you think? Oh, she is lovely. Come dear, see how much she looks like me when I was a girl. Not quite as lovely as I was but lovely nonetheless. Here, feel her soft skin.”

      Helen took Gabe’s withered hand, pushing it down to make contact with the sleeping girl’s throat. “Gabe, she’s perfect. I knew someone would come to us. Why, she sleeps so soundly, she doesn’t even know we’re here. Gently, Gabe, touch her lips.” Helen carefully drew Gabe’s forefinger across Elise’s lips. “See, she doesn’t mind. Now, touch her eyelashes. See how silky they feel? Kiss them dear. Softly, don’t wake her yet. Let’s enjoy her for a while, don’t you think?” Helen murmured softly as she caressed Elise’s cheek.

      Gabe leaned over the girl, running his tongue slowly over her eyelids and down her nose. “I think you’re right, Helen. She must be the one,” he whispered. “We’ve waited so long for someone to come to us. Our sweet little Elise. We will take such good care of her, won’t we dear?” Gabe ran his fingers delicately down her arm to caress her hand, now clenched into a tight fist. “Let’s leave her now. No need to wake her. We’ll come back later, Helen. She’s tired. Come, we have plans to make.” The two held hands and vanished, leaving behind the acrid odor of decaying flesh.

      Elise screamed. Bringing her hands to her face, she felt her eyelids, her cheeks. The air reeked of dead flesh, the putrid odor lingering in the air. Shivering uncontrollably, she sat up and grabbed an old blanket, managing to pull it around her shoulders in one quick motion. Looking around the attic room, she saw no one. But she knew. They had been here again. She felt the oily marks left by their hands on her face and throat, smelled their stink around her. These were the same spirits she encountered a few days ago.

      Elise had the distinct impression they belonged to this house. She pulled the blanket tightly around her. They would have to go. She had no intention of sharing this house with them. She would find out who they are and why they were here—then she’d get rid of them. Somehow. And soon. Before they spoiled her plans for Tom.

      ***

      Restless, Elise left her room and quietly crept down the hallway. The last room to her left was filled with boxes from Tom’s Jamestown house. One in particular caught her eye—a box marked “Elise/Personal.” Tearing it open, she was joyous to find some of her old possessions. Funny that Tom kept anything of mine, I’m flattered. And hopeful. Maybe, after all, I’m not forgotten. For an hour she pored over every item in the box. She gathered some clothing, personal items and books of poetry, hauling them laboriously to the room she claimed as her own—a dusty, cramped room, not much more than an oversized closet. She felt safe there. It was too small to be of use to anyone but her. As she carefully folded her clothing and placed it in a small, two-drawer bureau, she hummed happily.

      Helen and Gabe found Elise brushing her hair with her gold-plated hairbrush. She was immediately aware of their presence. Frigid air enveloped her. She shivered, dropped her brush.

      Gabe picked it up and started brushing Elise’s hair. He smiled at her. In the small vanity mirror, his reflection was faint but powerful. Elise gagged. Gabe’s smell was nauseating. He patted her hair, clumsily drawing the bristles through the tangles.

      “Gabe!” Helen said. “Your СКАЧАТЬ