Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

Marianne embarrassed herself further when her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. Kelly got her a box of tissues and moved the trash closer until Marianne’s outburst subsided. Marianne finally took a deep breath, scrubbed her face with both hands, and mumbled, “Thanks for listening and not telling me I’m an idiot. It’s just that my ex has been following me around since the divorce, and I had to get out of the city just to get away from him. Now, I think my house is haunted.”

“Hon, you’ve had a hell of a year, pardon my French,” Kelly repeated firmly and turned Marianne back to face the mirror. She got the blow-dryer out and started drying and brushing Marianne’s hair as she said, “I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but where did you say you lived?”

“25 Violet Lane. It’s a really sweet little house, and I love it and think I could live there but things keep happening that scare me.”

Kelly stopped again and stared at her in the mirror with a carefully neutral look. “Violet? The little gray and white house at the end of the cul-de-sac?” Marianne nodded, and Kelly frowned and pursed her lips.

“How did you end up there?” Kelly asked casually.

“Mrs. Thomas owns it and needed a house-sitter. She’s a friend of my grandmother’s. She hasn’t had much luck keeping renters, and after living there a few days, I can totally see why.”

Kelly shook her head. “I don’t know Mrs. Thomas, but the last woman who lived there was only there a couple of weeks before she locked it up tight and practically fled back where she came from. She stayed the last week at the B&B up on Main. Through the grapevine I heard some story about ghosts and nightmares and weird noises.”

Marianne sat under the peach cape staring at her stunned reflection. It was one thing to have suspicions and another to have them validated by another person. She looked at Kelly’s face in the mirror and realized she was dead serious.

She said apprehensively, “What am I going to do if I live in a haunted house? It’s so eerie! I feel like I’m being watched sometimes and just feel anxious all the time. It’s like I left one stalker for another.”

“Well, you could try to ignore it,” Kelly suggested tentatively, but Marianne looked so dubious Kelly reconsidered. “Let me make a few phone calls after you go, and I’ll get back to you. Leave me your number. In the meantime, you could try talking to the spirit.”

Marianne looked taken aback. “What would I say?”

Kelly shrugged again. “Whoever it is was probably a living person at one time. Maybe they just got stuck there for some reason. You could try telling them you don’t like being scared and ask them to stop scaring you. You could say that the house is yours now and you can arrange it however you like. They have no right to throw a temper tantrum.”

Marianne shook her head. “That sounds so strange.”

Kelly shrugged. “It’s better than running screaming from your house in the middle of the night.”

Marianne considered this and let it go for now. She finally refocused and looked at her reflection properly. With her dark brown, wavy hair cut this way she thought she looked reminiscent of Karen Allen in
Raiders of the Lost Ark
, except with amber eyes instead of blue. She smiled and turned her head admiringly. Kelly held an oval mirror up so she could see the back, and Marianne nodded. “It looks great. Thank you so much for listening to me and for giving me such a great haircut. I feel pretty for the first time in a long time.”

“You really have beautiful hair.” Kelly smiled back, flashing strong white teeth in her lean, tanned face.
 

There was a distant rumble of thunder outside, and they looked out the front windows. The sun was fading steadily under increasing cloud cover. The air felt heavier than ever as it fled before the advancing storm.
 

“Uh oh, I’d better get home,” Marianne said scrambling out of the chair and reaching for her purse. She paid Kelly and said, “I might make it before the rain if I hurry.”

“It was nice to meet you, Marianne.” Kelly’s warm hazel eyes echoed her smile. “Good luck with your house. Be strong, girl, and I think you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks. I feel better already!” Marianne left the salon and walked quickly up the street toward home.

Chapter 9

As soon as Marianne left, Kelly looked at the clock on the wall and fished for her cell phone in her purse. Her next scheduled appointment was in fifteen minutes, and she had time for one call.

She pressed autodial and waited, twirling a purple lock with one finger, while the phone rang on the other end. On the third ring she heard, “Hey, Amazon, what’s up?”

“Hey, Lawgirl, I just had a really interesting client.” She paused momentously before saying, “She just moved into the Violet Lane house.”

There was an answering pause before Sarah said quietly, “No shit.”

“Yeah, no shit! It’s been empty for a year, and the owner was desperate for someone to live there. Do you know a Mrs. Thomas?”

“I don’t know, maybe. We get a lot of names through work. Is your client having problems?”

“Sounds like it.” Kelly proceeded to tell her Marianne’s story emphasizing the weird occurrences. She finished by saying, “She seems like a really nice person. I like her, and I don’t know if she can handle things on her own. Would you be willing to come over with me some time and have a look around?”

There was a brief silence on the other end before Sarah said, “I could do that, I guess. Do you think she’ll be okay with it?”

Kelly nodded. “I think she’d really appreciate it. If it doesn’t work out, we can make some excuse and leave without too much trouble.”

Sarah agreed and said, “When? Can she wait till the weekend?”

“I got the feeling: not so much. I don’t start till noon tomorrow, so how ‘bout then?”

Sarah considered. “Okay. I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule here and come in late. They owe me a little time.”

“Thanks, Sweetie. You might like her, you never know,” Kelly said with a wry grin.

Sarah snorted and said, “I’ve got a lunch break in a few minutes if you want to get something?”
 

“Sorry, Love,” Kelly said regretfully, “I’m working through lunch today. But I can be home early if I don’t get any late walk-ins.”

“Okay, see you then,” and Sarah hung up. Almost on cue the next client came in the door, and Kelly slipped her phone into her bag and greeted him with a smile.

Sarah put the handset back in the cradle thoughtfully. The uneasy, something’s-coming feeling she’d had for the last few days settled into place like a compass needle finding north. She got up to stretch and water her plants to settle her mind before resuming work on preparing for the afternoon meeting.

As the self-proclaimed caretaker of Maple Hill’s spirits, she monitored the interactions between the living and nonliving residents of the town, and she felt personally obligated to intervene if someone needed her. Whenever she had a feeling that something was going on, she was on heightened alert until she knew what it was, and it either resolved itself or she stepped in.
 

The spider plant on top of the filing cabinet had sent out another few sprigs on their long, droopy stems and needed trimming again. In the meantime, she watered it and gently steered it away from the avocado seed she was coaxing into life on the windowsill.
 

There were many skeptics among the living, some of whom considered her a downright fraud. If she had to talk to a known skeptic, it was usually because a deceased relative needed her to relay a message. Sarah did her best to be polite and nonthreatening, but sometimes the recipient took the news hard. She’d been accused of spying or lying more than once. Sometimes the opposite had happened, and the surviving relatives of a newly deceased person begged her to hold a séance so they could talk to the dearly departed. Sarah knew when a spirit was still present and when they were gone, and she had to break the news gently but firmly that she didn’t do séances. The one thing she never did was take money in exchange for the use of her skill.

 
Her day job was very important to her. The law firm’s partners, Dan Smith, Arnold Wolgust, and Hank Brown, were tolerant of her sideline partly because she never told them all that she did. She was also fortunate that each partner had a personal reason to believe in the paranormal. Dan had a grandmother who conversed with spirits. Arnold had a cousin who had an uncanny ability to sense structural damage no one else was able to detect. And Hank had never told her why he believed, but she gathered he’d had an unpleasant encounter with something supernatural. She’d utilized her talents on behalf of the firm a couple of times, and they’d recognized her value. Lucky for her, they were also the premier law firm in town and considered very respectable citizens. So, when gossip made its rounds, they firmly squashed it.

There had been a few so-called psychics over the years who had set up shop in Maple Hill. The first time Sarah had gone eager to find another person who could do what she did. Madame Z had been full of airy-fairy nonsense about crystal balls, séances, and card reading, and Sarah had been bitterly disappointed. When she realized that the phony psychic was also defrauding the people of Maple Hill, Sarah threatened to expose her. It didn’t hurt that one of her spirit friends had put in an appearance and scared the bejeezus out of Madame Z during a fake séance. Since then, there had been a few others, but Sarah left them alone as long as they didn’t fleece too many pockets and disturb too many souls.

Sarah finished watering the pots of herbs, basil, mint and lemon thyme she kept on a table by the window. They added a subtle fragrance to the room, and she found them soothing.

There were unpleasant members of the nonliving population as well: bullies and entities that downright scared her. She’d dealt with an angry poltergeist once when she was much younger, and it had taken everything she had not to run screaming like her client. Then, there were the occasional shadow beings who passed through Maple Hill, and all she could do was monitor them and put up wards around the most vulnerable places. She didn’t know what or who they were, but they gave her the willies. She could handle most things by herself, but sometimes she needed help. Kelly was her rock, even if she couldn’t see or hear anything in the spirit world. Sarah also had a few allies on both sides of the veil and drew on them as a last resort.
 

She would definitely try and get to the bottom of the unrest she’d sensed lately when she and Kelly visited the Violent Lane house tomorrow. With any luck, Marianne Singleton would not be an unpleasant skeptic.
 

The breeze billowed through the open window, rattling the blinds. Sarah lowered the old fashioned sash window and settled herself at the desk again. A thunderstorm would be welcome. She turned her attention back to the briefing she’d been writing before Kelly’s call.

The smoky wisp felt the electric crackle of the coming storm and strained to draw energy from it. The newcomer had to be warned, and dreams weren’t clear enough. She had to be kept out of the basement at all costs.

Marianne walked quickly down the sidewalk as the breeze picked up, lifting the dust fitfully from the pavement. The café owner outside the co-op was closing the umbrellas over the heavy metal tables, and people were moving purposefully toward cover.

She felt better than she had in days with a good haircut. Pouring her heart out to the hairdresser had also been cathartic. Kelly had been really nice. Admittedly, it was her job to be nice to her clients, but it felt like she’d been sincere when she’d told her she was brave. Marianne couldn’t remember anyone ever telling her that before. Well, if she was brave maybe she could deal with this haunted house. She hoped that Kelly was worthy of the confidence and didn’t blab Marianne’s troubles all over town. It sounded like the last woman to live in the house had been freaked out by weird occurrences too and left in a big hurry.

The first huge drops of rain were beginning to fall as she turned the corner to her own street. She started to jog, but before she’d run more than a few yards the heavens opened up with a flash of lightning and a delayed peal of thunder. She was drenched by the time she reached her front door and fumbled with the keys.
 

Once inside she pushed her sneakers off and dripped her way down the hall to the bathroom to towel off. Oscar followed her. When she’d dried herself enough to not leave footprints everywhere, she got new clothes and hung up the wet things over the shower curtain rod. Her beautiful new hairdo was completely plastered to her skull, and she did her best to towel it dry. Oh well, she thought as she looked in the bathroom mirror, so much for looking like a young Karen Allen.

The lightning and thunder came closer and closer together as the storm approached. The light outside had turned into early twilight grey in spite of it being early afternoon. Marianne flipped on a few lights and turned on the radio, but every time there was a flash of lightning, the static made such a hideous noise that she turned it off almost immediately. Cool, moist air blew in through the western bedroom windows, and she raced in to shut them soundly before the rain could wet the floor any further. The wall in the office still looked white, and there appeared to be no new disasters.

She made tea for herself in the kitchen and put out a fresh can of cat food for Oscar. Given the spooky thunderstorm atmosphere, she half expected more ghostly happenings. It would be better to keep busy than idly anticipating something dreadful. So, she got a bucket and sponge and decided to clean the kitchen cabinets thoroughly.

The storm outside passed while she worked, but the wind and rain continued to lash the windows. She was just sponging mouse poop out of one of the lower cabinets when the hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she had the distinct sensation of someone standing in the doorway behind her. Goosebumps crept over her skin, and she felt a bubble of apprehension rise in her chest. She turned slowly hoping against hope to see Oscar and thought she caught a shadow in the doorway to the pantry, but when she looked, it wasn’t there, nor was Oscar. The unnamable anxiety was back.