Ghost House Revenge (2 page)

“I want a ride!” she squealed, wriggling onto his lap.

Gary laughed, kissing her golden curls. He wheeled the
chair toward the kitchen door, into the dining room and down the hallway. Nancy laughed
with delight, trying to touch each brass doorknob as they raced past. Neither Gary
nor his daughter knew they were being watched by a pair of malevolent eyes. A beautiful
young woman stared at them, her heart almost set aflame with desire to destroy their
happiness and their lives.

On Monday Melanie dropped Nancy off at kindergarten, then headed toward the medical
center with Gary. She hummed softly as she drove, enjoying the scenery.

“Long Island is so beautiful in the spring,” she commented. “I’m so glad we moved
here from the city.”

Gary mumbled a reply, staring out the window. He was thinking how much he hated these
long drives. In truth, he hated them less than the fact that he himself was not doing
the driving. Melanie recognized his frustration and tried to cheer him up.

“Dr. Norton says you’re doing remarkably well,” she said. “Pretty soon, you’ll be
able to stop coming here.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Gary said.

At the clinic Gary was greeted by his doctor, a middle-aged woman with a perpetually
sunny disposition.

“My colleagues and I had a meeting about you this morning,” she said. “We’re all very
impressed by the progress you’ve made. Looks like you’ll be out of this wheelchair
in a few weeks, Gary. And there isn’t anything you’re doing here that couldn’t be
done at home, under the care of a private therapist.”

Gary smiled broadly and said excitedly, “When do I start?”

Dr. Norton laughed. “Next week, possibly. I know a fine therapist who is available.
His name is Derek Miller, and I recommend him highly.”

“Then he’s the one,” Gary said. “Uh, what sort of setup will it be? Does he live near
Belle Bay?”

“He’s from New Jersey,” Dr. Norton said. “I’m sure he could find an apartment near
your house.”

“When we’ve got lots of extra bedrooms? He’d be welcome to stay with us.”

“I haven’t finished telling you about him,” she cautioned.

“Why would I have any objections?”

“Because Derek hasn’t done private work in three years,”
Dr. Norton said. “You see, he’s a widower with a teen-age daughter. If you were to
board Derek, you’d have to take in Alicen, too.”

“That’s okay,” Gary said. “There’s nothing wrong with the kid, is there?”

“No, nothing really. She’s rather shy. She wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I’m sure,” Gary said. “Listen, I want to discuss this with Melanie before I give
my final answer. But I can’t see any problems.”

The entire family was sitting around the dinner table that night when Gary announced
his news. The children were delighted. Now their father would be able to spend more
time at home. They asked dozens of questions about the therapist and his daughter.
Melanie, however, remained silent. Gary looked at her, not understanding the worry
in her eyes. But he decided it was best to discuss her objections in private.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, their arms entwined, Melanie told Gary of her
fears. “I just don’t think it’s safe to bring people into this house,” she confessed.

“Why not?” Gary asked. “We certainly have enough room. And if the extra housework
is too much for you, we’ll hire a maid.”

“I can get along fine without a maid,” Melaine said. “Gary, you know what I’m talking
about. You know what happened last year! What if it happened again? What if . . .”

“That is over, darling,” Gary said. “We promised not to talk about it, remember?”

“Perhaps we
should
talk about it,” Melanie said. “Let’s get the statement out in the open, Gary. Our
house was haunted. And not by nice harmless ghosts flitting around in white sheets.
What’s our guarantee that the ghost won’t come back again?”

“I just don’t think it will,” Gary said firmly. “You know, lightning doesn’t strike
the same place twice.”

“Yes, it does,” Melanie protested.

“What do you expect me to tell the man?” he demanded. “ ‘You’re taking this job at
your own risk, Miller. We once had a ghost in our house who may come back again’?”

“Stop making fun of me,” Melanie said. “I think my fears are justified.”

Gary’s expression softened as he bent to kiss his wife. “I’m
sorry,” he said. “But don’t you see how much this means to me? I
hate
going to that medical center. It would be easier for me—and for you. Just look at
all the time you take out of your painting just to drive me.”

“That never bothered me,” Melanie said.

“Look, Melanie,” Gary said. “Nothing is going to happen. I want this so badly that
I’ll go ahead and do it in spite of your objections. But please say it’s all right
with you!”

His eyes were so like a little boy’s that Melanie felt herself melting. She nodded
slowly.

“All right,” she said. “All right, do what you want. I’m just being ridiculous.”

“No, you’re not,” Gary said. “But don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Are they here yet?” Gary asked as he wheeled himself into the living room.

“Not yet,” Melanie said. She was standing near the bay window, her slender hands resting
on the back of an antique chair. Gary came up beside her.

“Are you still worried?” he asked.

“No, I’ve gotten used to the idea of house guests,” Melanie said.

“They’ll turn out fine,” Gary insisted. “You’ll see.”

“From the looks of that rain,” Melanie said, “they may not make it here today.”

But just then, through the heavy downpour, they heard the sound of an engine. A few
minutes later, a green Volvo came over the top of the hill and stopped in the driveway.
Melanie and Gary watched as Derek Miller got out. He was wearing a raincoat with an
upturned collar, which hid his face. He opened his daughter’s door, and the two shared
an umbrella up to the porch.

Derek was shaking the rain from his umbrella when Melanie opened the door. He looked
up and smiled.

“I’m Derek Miller,” he said.

“I know,” Melanie answered. “Come in out of that rain, will you?”

Derek immediately introduced his daughter, then bent down to shake Gary’s hand. Doctor
Norton had told him about his patient, and Derek was impressed by the firmness of
Gary’s grip. Gary, in turn, was scrutinizing his therapist. After Derek removed his
coat, Gary saw he was a well-built man of about thirty-five. The muscle lines under
his cardigan told Gary he was a man who cared as much for his own body as those of
his patients.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Melanie asked. “Or hot chocolate?”

“Not for me,” Derek said. “Thanks.”

Alicen declined with a shake of her head. Melanie folded their coats over her arm,
thinking how handsome Derek was with his boyish features and dark, wavy hair. Unfortunately,
none of his good looks had been passed on to his daughter. Alicen was the sorriest-looking
child Melanie had ever seen, with a chubby body and stringy black hair. Melanie noticed
she was staring at the mirror backplate of an elaborate wall lamp that hung in the
hallway.

“That’s called a girandole,” she said. “It’s an eighteenth century antique. Isn’t
it lovely?”

Alicen nodded but said nothing. Gary led the group into the living room and indicated
seats for everyone. Derek sat on the overstuffed burgundy-colored couch. Alicen kept
her distance, choosing a huge slat-back rocking chair near the fireplace.

“You collect antiques, Mrs. VanBuren?” Derek asked.

“Oh, no,” Melanie said. “Gary does. He decorated this entire house.”

“Some of the furniture came with it,” Gary said. “That table there, for instance.
It was built around 1795, the same year as this house.”

Abruptly Gary changed the subject. “How was your trip?”

“Not bad,” Derek said. “It’s only two hours from Englewood.”

He stood up and went to the fireplace, looking at the portraits that hung over it.
There was one of a blond boy and another depicting two little girls looking out a
window.

“Dr. Norton said you had three children?” he asked.

“Kyle, Gina, and Nancy,” Gary said, pointing to each in turn. “They’re in school right
now.”

“Gina’s your age,” Melanie said to Alicen.

The little girl mumbled, “I know.”

“I guess that’s one reason you let me bring Alicen,” Derek said. He picked up a pewter
vase and fingered its smooth rim. “Most people think she’d be in the way, even before
they meet her.”

“But you seem like a well-behaved girl, Alicen,” Melanie said, smiling at her. Alicen
had left her rocking chair and was now sitting on the window seat, watching the rain
pummel the azaleas. She said nothing.

“She’s a teen-ager, though,” Derek said, “and that bothers people. They think she’d
bring drugs into their houses or something. It’s idiotic. I prefer private work, but
it’s impossible to get it with a kid in tow. I’ve been stuck in a clinic for three
years.”

“We like children,” Melanie said, thinking it was very rude of Derek to speak that
way in front of his daughter.

“Well, your call was a godsend, Mr. VanBuren,” Derek said, ignoring the glare in Melanie’s
eyes.

“It’s Gary,” was the reply, “Mr. VanBuren is for clients and children. I’m hoping
we’ll be friends.”

“After a few days of therapy with me,” Derek said, laughing, “you may not want to
be friends.”

Alicen suddenly spoke up, in a clear voice that surprised Melanie.

“Who lives in that house down the road?” she asked, still staring out the window.

“It’s empty,” Melanie said. “The owner—the owner died last year.”

As if to indicate she didn’t wish to discuss it, Melanie stood up abruptly. “Well!
How about letting me show you your rooms?”

“Sounds good,” Derek said.

Gary had rigged a lift along the stairs so that he could get up and down them easily,
and was quite adept at sliding himself into it Melanie started to push the wheelchair
up, as she usually did, but Derek took the handles from her.

“Let me do that,” he said, putting his suitcases on the seat.

“I’ve been doing it for months,” Melanie said. “I’m not a weakling.”

Derek agreed, but still held fast to the chair. They ascended the stairs slowly, so
that Gary could keep up with them. As they walked down the hall, Derek stopped to
look at the paintings that lined the walls. He saw Melanie’s name on a few of them
and complimented her. When he saw
that the others depicted naval scenes, he asked if they had an interest in that field.

Melanie and Gary exchanged glances, and after a moment’s hesitation, Gary said, “The
original owner of this house was a captain in the eighteenth-century British navy.
Someday I’ll tell you about him.”

When they came to the last door in the hall, Melanie opened it and led Derek inside.
The room was sparsely furnished with only a bed and dresser.

“We can bring other pieces down from the attic,” Melanie said. “I thought it would
be best to ask what you needed, first.”

This is just fine,” Derek answered.

“Now, Alicen,” Melanie said, “come across the hall and see your room.”

Thinking the original furnishings had been too plain for a young girl, Melanie had
added pretty yellow curtains and a white desk. There was a big bouquet of flowers
on the window seat. Alicen looked around, then sat down on the bed, which was covered
with a yellow and white quilt.

“Well, how do you like it, Alicen?” Melanie asked.

“It’s nice,” Alicen said in a soft tone.

Derek shook his head in a gesture of eternal patience, then left the room. Out in
the hall he turned to Melanie and said, “You’ll have to forgive my daughter’s lack
of enthusiasm. She’s been withdrawn since my wife died. It’s been six years, but .
. .”

“Don’t make excuses,” Melanie said. “I promise, Alicen will get along just fine here.
My children are very friendly.”

Indeed, Gina lost no time in making Alicen feel at home. After dinner, she showed
the girl her collection of records and stuffed animals. They sat on Gina’s bed in
their robes, Gina’s frilly quilted one a sharp contrast to Alicen’s flannel robe.

“Do you like Billy Joel?” Gina asked.

“I—I don’t know any boys yet,” Alicen faltered.

“I mean Billy Joel the singer!” Gina cried. Seeing the confused look on Alicen’s face,
she said, “Never mind. I’ll play some of his records for you later. Don’t you listen
to the radio?”

“I like to read,” Alicen replied. Thinking Gina might ridicule her for being a bookworm,
she climbed from the bed and busied herself with a stuffed kangaroo.

“We have lots of books,” Gina said, coming up next to her. “Come on downstairs and
I’ll show you our library.”

“You have a library?” Alicen asked incredulously as she followed Gina from the room.

“Uh-huh,” Gina answered. “It’s got hundreds of books, but we kids have our own special
shelf.”

Alicen’s brown eyes became very round when she and Gina entered the room. Arched bookshelves
decorated with carved cherubs’ heads lined three of the walls, while a fourth held
built-in stands for maps and atlases.

“It’s beautiful,” Alicen whispered.

“This is our shelf,” Gina said. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled a book down. It
was so huge that she had to use both hands to carry it to the brown Chesterfield sofa.
She laid it down on the long table before her, and Alicen saw the title:
Collected Works of Charles Dickens
.

“Grandpa said the pictures were painted by hand,” Gina said. “See the date? 1850!”

“It’s just beautiful,” Alicen said again.

“My favorite story is
A Christmas Carol,”
Gina said. “See this picture of Scrooge? There’s this guy named Mr. Percy at school
who looks Just like him. And he’s just as mean.”

“Will I get him?” Alicen asked, worried.

“I hope not,” Gina said. “You’ll probably be in my class. We live together, don’t
we?”