Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of rain, driven by gale force winds, hammered the house. Huge waves crashed onto the beach with immense power, sending spray high into the air.

      A bolt of lightning struck a tree not fifty feet away. Tom leapt back, almost falling. Son of a bitch! That was close. It was time to shutter the windows again. But the wind was blowing so hard and the rain pouring so forcefully, Tom decided against going out and wrestling with the living room shutters. Picking the sleeping kitten up from the couch, he retreated to the safety of the kitchen.

      Tom warmed himself before the kitchen fireplace, drank another beer. “A hot shower might relax me. Maybe the storm will be over by the time I’m out.” The kitten opened one eye, curled into a ball and dismissed Tom with a flick of his fluffy tail.

      Though the storm had lessened somewhat when Tom came back downstairs, the thunder still rumbled, and the rain continued beating against the windows. Opening another beer, he carried it to the living room. As he stared vacantly into the fire, a horrible sense of despondency settled over him. He was alone—for the first time in his life—utterly alone.

      “Well, Tom,” he said out loud, “are you going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself?” He downed half of his beer, got up and began pacing the floor. He saw his reflection in the storm darkened, living room window. “You look pathetic.” He took another drink. “Man, get over her. Elise is dead. Dead and buried. Dead and gone. Dead, as in pushing up daisies. Dead as a doornail. Dead. Dead. Dead!” He swigged his beer. “Need I say more? Thought not,” he chuckled, toasting his reflection with his beer.

      “She drove you crazy. Remember? It was a hell of a lousy time. The worst you could conceivably experience. And man, you can’t go there again. No more loony bins for you. Face the music, move on. Right?” He argued with himself, alternately angry, then sad.

      Tom knew it to be undeniably true. Elise was dead . . . but . . . a part of him was unwilling, perhaps unable, to let her go, to truly believe her gone forever. “How do I let her go?” Finishing his beer, he hurled the empty bottle into the fireplace relishing the splintering of glass, the hiss of liquid hitting the hot coals. He stared searchingly into the flames.

      Crossing to the bar, he poured himself a shot of vodka from the crystal decanter. Tom turned back to his reflection in the darkened window, watched himself down his drink in one swallow. He spoke to his mirrored image, “You have to deal with the truth if you’re ever going to get over her.” He pointed his finger at his reflection. “It has to come to this, of course—this sad realization. Your love for Elise became your obsession. You wanted to possess her, she wouldn’t let you. You broke her spirit, held her soul hostage and made her hate you. You wouldn’t—couldn’t— let her go. She was your heart. Your soul. You were afraid of losing her.

      “When you realized she no longer could love you, you killed her—as if by your own, bare hands. You snuffed the life out of her, took away her will to go on living. That’s what you did. How can you ever forgive yourself?” He turned from his haunting image, got another drink.

      He whispered into the empty room, “Elise—my only love—you hated me so much you would rather die than stay with me. I did that to you. You took your own life—but the blood is on my hands. That is what I have to live with.” Tom dropped onto the edge of the couch and stared at the floor. “Forgive me.” A brilliant bolt of lightning lit the dark room, followed by a rumbling of thunder that shook the walls and the floor. Tom did not notice.

      Chapter 9

      On the night Elise died, Tom held her in his arms. His fingers gently stroked her golden curls, caressed her pale cheeks; he gazed into her unfocused, brown eyes. He watched her take her last breath, watched her eyes close for the last time. Begging her to forgive him his selfishness, he pleaded with her to understand, to believe he never meant his love to be a punishment.

      Whether she understood, or even heard him, he did not know. She died quietly—never granting him final acknowledgment that she even knew he was there. All night he held her—not able to understand that she was dead, only glad to be holding her so closely. In the warmth of his arms, she was very much alive that long, quiet winter night. Elise, his cherished wife, was his again. He clung to her, praying morning would never come.

      But it did come. A cold, sunless January day dawned. No birds sang this day. There were no peals of laughter from the children in the neighborhood, only hushed silence. A heavy snow had fallen in the night, shrouding the world in a blanket of white. Few ventured out, choosing to stay inside, sheltered from the icy cold. The quiet of night continued into the morning. Lily, the housekeeper, discovered Tom and Elise late the next morning. Contrary to her usual high-strung nature, she remained calm and controlled as she ran to get Nate, Tom’s right hand man, who was having breakfast in his office, going over a contract. Nate called 911.

      Tom cradled Elise, holding her tightly. Nate sat by his side as Tom quietly explained to him, “I won’t leave her—not after we’ve found each other again.”

      “Tom! Oh, God, no. What happened?” Nate whispered, trying to take Elise from Tom’s tightly clenched arms. “Tom, Elise is gone, man. You have to let go.” When the EMT’s came into the room, Tom screamed at them, “Elise is fine! Leave us alone!” He continued ranting, struggling to hold on to her lifeless body. The EMT’s tried to pry him away from her. “Don’t take her from me! Get out! All of you. Get the hell away from us! Let me go, you sons of bitches!”

      Tom’s doctor arrived minutes after the ambulance. Nate held Tom down while Dr. Robeson gave him a shot of a sedative to knock him out. Crying out for Elise, Tom slumped backward onto the bed. The coroner examined Elise’s body, pronounced her dead, and she was taken to the morgue. The following week, the autopsy would determine that Elise Gardner had died of an overdose of numerous narcotics ingested in a mixture of brandy and water. No suicide note was found.

      Tom had only vague memories of the weeks that followed. Elise had been buried, her funeral attended only by Tom and his family. Her mother could not be located, though his sister, Cassie, had tried. Tom had vague recollections of Cassie and Nate trying to console him as he literally fell apart. The following months were the easiest for Tom. He resided in a drug-induced fantasy. For several blissful months, he shared all his time with Elise. During these months, she never left his side—the outside world no longer existed. Content, he made plans with his wife. Together, they began to build their future.

      Cassie, having a family of her own to take care of, left Tom in the care of Dr. Robeson and returned to New York City. Unfortunately, Robeson’s idea of treatment was giving Tom all the drugs he wanted. After pleas from Nate, Cassie finally came back to Jamestown to see for herself why Nate was so concerned. She was devastated, realizing her brother was slipping further and further away from reality, living in a fantasy world shared with his dead wife. Cassie took charge.

      For the next six months, the renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Kyle Gerard, treated Tom at Jamestown Psychiatric Hospital. Dr. Gerard slowly reduced the amount of drugs Tom had been dependent on until he was able to exist with only the aid of sleeping pills—to get him through the long nights. The sleeping pills afforded Tom hours of dreamless sleep. Without the pills, his nights were unbearable. Elise came to him—no longer as his lover—but to taunt and torment him. Tom tried unsuccessfully to sleep without the pills, finally gave up. After all, there were plenty of other doctors willing to give him what he needed when Dr. Gerard refused to write him any more prescriptions.

      Chapter 10

      Elise cried, the sound not much louder than a tiny mew, as if from a kitten crying for its lost mama. The attic room was dark, cold, empty. She shivered, her teeth chattered. Elise thought she’d never be warm again.

СКАЧАТЬ