haven hollow 00 - 01 to 10, page 2
It wasn’t real, I told myself. Just a trick of the light and shadows. You had to be imagining it because… monsters aren’t real.
“What are you looking at?” Finn asked. I turned around as he focused on the view behind me. “Um,” he started. “What’s that?” He pointed out the window, and I was suddenly afraid the thing had resurfaced.
I swallowed hard and looked out at the empty graveyard, relieved when only the stray tombstones met my eyes. “A cemetery?”
“Why didn’t you tell me the house was sitting on a cemetery?” he demanded, his voice growing louder as he threw his hands on his hips and glared at me. One thing he’d been adamant about was that we move to a house with no ghosts.
“Because I didn’t know it was sitting on a cemetery,” I started. “The bank left that little, inconvenient detail out. And so did Google Maps.”
“Moooom, this place is totally haunted,” Finn said as he shook his head. “It’s going to be just like our last house which means… I don’t want to live here!”
“Just because there’s a cemetery at least a football field’s length away doesn’t mean the house is haunted!”
I only hoped I was right.
Chapter Two
Finn and I piled into the Jeep after locking up the house.
Why even bother locking it? I chided myself. Are you afraid another rodent is going to break in and die, adding to that horrible smell?
I didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, I just looked at the three-story jalopy and tried to keep the tears back.
“Mom? You okay?” Finn asked as he turned to look at me.
I smiled back at him and then I inhaled deeply and exhaled… just as deeply. “What did I do?”
He looked back at the house and frowned before turning to face me again. Then he reached out and patted my hand, where it rested on the shifter. “Maybe this is one of those blessings wearing costumes?”
It took me a second to realize what he was trying to say. “You mean a blessing in disguise?”
Finn nodded, his little cherubic face brightening into a smile. “Yeah, that.”
I looked at the house again. “Any blessings that come into contact with this house will run away with their tails between their legs.”
Finn laughed. I tried to, but the sound came out weak and anemic. “There’s just…” I continued, “so much work to do and I don’t even… I don’t even know where to start.”
“You always tell me to look at the bright side of everything, right Mom?” Finn asked as I turned to look at him again and he reached over and wrapped his skinny arms around me. I suddenly felt like the luckiest woman in the whole world.
“All that matters is that we have each other,” Finn continued. “And together, we can take on anything, right Mom?”
I batted the tears away. Sometimes he just knew exactly the right thing to say. “Right, buddy,” I said with a smile that extended all the way down to my soul.
I took another big breath, patted the top of his head and forced myself to get back in control. Finn was right—we had this. I faced forward and turned on the engine. Then I looked at my son and his big blue eyes and his shining smile. “Thanks for the pep talk, nibbles.”
I was only allowed to call Finn one of the variety of nicknames I had for him (‘nibbles’, ‘bubbles’, ‘cutie pie’ and ‘monkey’) when we were alone.
“Welcome, Mom.”
I nodded, feeling the strength to persevere returning to me with each breath I took. “Are you ready to head to the hotel now?”
“Can we order room service?” he asked, his grin widening so his braces gleamed in the low light.
“We sure can,” I answered as I thought about the world of good it was going to do me to get a good night’s sleep.
As we drove down the bumpy driveway and the headlights reflected off the tree-trunks, my mind started to drift back to the woman in the graveyard and then the… thing. As much as I tried to convince myself that the creature (and possibly even the woman) had been nothing more than a trick of the fading light combined with my overactive imagination, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it.
I could still see the glint of sunlight off the thing’s antlers, and I could remember the way it trailed long claw-like fingernails along the tops of the tombstones, as it limped forward, all hunched over.
What are you saying then? I asked myself. That monsters are real?
No, I wasn’t saying that. I knew enough to know monsters weren’t real. Yes, magic was real, but magic was something that characterized humans—humans like gypsies and witches. I’d lived my life walking the line between reality and what others perceived to be surreality and never once had I come across anything mythical or fantastical.
Then why can’t you shake the image of that thing you think you saw in the graveyard?
It just… I could see it! There was something there!
If that were the case, don’t you think the woman would have screamed? Or would have called for help or run off? You would have heard something!
True. Unless…
Unless the woman and the creature were one and the same…
***
An hour later, we’d checked into the Haven Hollow Inn, which was a bed and breakfast dating to the early 1900s. It was a quaint, two story Victorian, painted green with white gingerbreading. Inside, it was overstuffed with antique furniture and ancient rugs. And there were so many knick-knacks covering every possible surface, my claustrophobia kicked in double-time. There was also a very unwelcoming cat that sat in the window and glared at you every time you made the mistake of looking at him. His name was, unfittingly, ‘Happy’.
Luckily, we were still in time for dinner and Ethel, the elderly woman who owned and ran the place, was only too happy to make us whatever we wanted. Finn, being the opportunistic child he was, immediately requested pancakes with extra butter and two scrambled eggs, but no bacon.
No, it wasn’t room service, but Finn seemed okay with the fact that he was getting breakfast for dinner.
“And why don’t you like bacon, dear?” Ethel asked as she served us at the enormous oak table. Apparently, we were the only customers Ethel had this week.
“Because Piggy is my best friend and he’s a pig,” Finn answered as he held up his pink stuffed-animal pig, something he’d had since he was a baby. Yes, he was probably too old to still be so attached to the thing, but Piggy had helped him get through many episodes with a poltergeist at our last house, so I wasn’t about to take Piggy away now.
“Well, he’s a very handsome pig,” Ethel said as she handed me my requested salad and then studied Finn for a few seconds. “And if it’s okay with your mama, I think Piggy would love some of Aunt Ethel’s famous apple pie!”
I smiled up at the kind old woman and nodded. “It’s okay with me as long as I get a bite…”
Ethel laughed and her large stomach rumbled along with her. Then she disappeared into the kitchen as Finn dove into his pancakes. A few minutes later, Ethel reemerged with two heaping plates of apple pie à la mode.
And there goes my diet… Again.
Sheesh, this last ten pounds was becoming a permanent fixture. Not that it really mattered because there weren’t any men in my life, aside from my son. And I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
After finishing up dinner, we thanked Ethel and helped clear our plates, regardless of her protestations. Finn was especially pleased when Ethel produced a tiny sweater she’d knitted for Happy but, unsurprisingly, Happy wasn’t very keen on it. Turned out, it was the perfect size for Piggy. And, thus, the overstuffed, pink pig inherited Happy’s sweater.
Once we said goodnight, we retired to our room upstairs. As soon as I unlocked the door, my phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was my mother.
“We just got your message, sweetie,” Mom started as soon as I answered. “And we just think it’s a great idea!” she enthused.
Fiona Morton’s voice held what many of the older gentlemen in our hometown would have considered a sexy amount of rasp. She’d smoked from the time she was sixteen, quitting cold turkey when she discovered she was pregnant with me. Second hardest thing she’d ever done, as she continuously reminded me.
I held the phone away from my mouth and looked at Finn as I whispered, “You need to go get in the shower and brush your teeth and then it’s bed!”
“Mom! I had a shower yesterday!”
“How are you both settling in?” Mom asked.
“Just a second,” I answered and then faced my stinky child again. “Right, and you have to shower every day!”
“Why? I put on deodorant!”
“I don’t care! Now, off you go!”
“Jeez,” Finn grumbled, but he headed for the bathroom, all the same.
“Hi, Mom,” I started again. “Everything is going good, so far.”
I didn’t want to tell her about the condition of the house. I just… didn’t have the energy. Instead, I sat down at the desk in the far end of the crowded room and pulled out a small notepad from one of the drawers.
“… just can’t wait to see pictures and we want to know all about the town,” Mom continued. I was only half-paying attention to the conversation. Most of my concentration was on the list of to-do items I was currently working on.
“I’ve been telling you to open a store for how long now?” she asked.
“Ten years,” I answered, trying to restrain a gusty sigh.
“And you never listen to your mother. Didn’t I tell you this would be a great idea? Reggie, tell your daughter she’s going to do great!”
On the other end of the line, I could make out a soft grunt that was dad-speak for ‘the game’s on—leave me in peace, woman.’
“Dad thinks it’s a really great idea, sweetie,” Mom confirmed. “Oh! And that gout potion I whipped up has your father back on his feet again! Adding the extra ginger root to GG’s recipe was exactly what it needed. Good thing I still have the knack!”
GG was short for ‘Great-Grandma’ and GG was my mom’s mother, who was still alive and sly as an old fox.
But, back to Dad… I was fairly sure losing twenty pounds by laying off beer and pizza had more to do with his recovery than GG’s home remedies. But hey, I needed the pep talk and it was nice to know Mom believed in me. At least someone did.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And once you’re all settled in, you can start thinking about finding the right man?”
“Mom…”
“Eventually you’re going to want a partner, Holly. You’re still young… ish and you don’t want what happened with Jeremy to stop you from dating again.”
“I just need some time, Mom.”
“Have you used that Match.com subscription I got you for your birthday?”
No, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t in any hurry to start now. “Not yet.”
“Well, don’t forget. Your future husband could be on it, just waiting for you.”
Yeah. Right.
“I won’t forget.”
Dating was a sensitive subject for me, in general. And it always had been. I wasn’t sure if I’d been in love with Finn’s father. Not that it really mattered anyway, because as soon as he’d found out I was pregnant, he’d split like a worn-down inseam. I’d always grown up with the notion that it took two to parent so I’d shopped for father figures... and found Dylan the drunk, Charlie the cheap, Simon the serial philanderer, and Theodore the thief. And then there was Jeremy, the crowning glory.
After getting out of that debacle, I’d decided to stay out of the dating pool. But telling Mom as much would just upset her. Maybe I’d at least set up my profile—just to make her happy. Dating at forty-three wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to. Ahem… understatement of the century.
“I’ll look tonight,” I promised.
“Okay, love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“Say hi to Finn for us.”
“I will.”
She tried to squeeze in another piece of advice before the phone clicked. Whoops. I was too tired to call back and there was still a lot left to do. I needed to write a list of everything that needed fixing at the house, and I needed to make a list of the materials I’d need to construct the shelves for my store. As well as watch a YouTube video on how to make shelves. Sigh.
Not to mention that tomorrow was a really big day! Finn and I would be waking up early in order to meet the moving truck which was due to arrive in the morning.
Finn stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his middle. Then he reached inside his suitcase and pulled out his Christmas pajamas which were a size too small. He pulled them up his long, skinny legs and then jumped on his twin size bed, which was just beside mine. Then he clicked on the TV, and immediately started laughing at Spongebob Squarepants who trilled his intensely irritating laugh into the interior of the room.
“Gran’s got a point, Mom,” Finn said, from where he was nearly lost among the numerous pillows on his bed.
“Gran’s got what point?”
“That you can’t let your relationship with Jeremy leave a bad taste in your mouth. There are still good guys out there.”
“I have yet to meet them,” I grumbled.
“Well… now you have probability on your side.”
I smiled. I didn’t even know the word ‘probability’ was in his vocab. “Oh, and how’s that?”
Finn shrugged. “L.A. has a large pool of douchebags. Haven Hollow, not so much.”
“Language,” I snapped.
He shrugged again. “My point still stands.”
“Because small town means fewer jerks?”
“Yep,” he answered and then looked over at me. “I have a good feeling about this place.”
***
I rarely dream and when I do, it’s usually because I’ve decided I need to.
And tonight, I was hoping for prophetic dreams—something from the Universe to help guide me on my path. Something to tell me whether I was making a mistake with this house, whether I should put it up for sale and buy something more… easily managed.
Everyone has a third eye, but almost no one uses theirs. For regular folks, it normally takes drugs, religion, or near-death experiences to find a way to see through to the other side. Even my own family had lost the knack. GG was the only one who regularly peeked beyond the veil to the beyond. For the rest of us, there was Dreamtime Oil: Carnation, Sandalwood, Vanilla and a kick of good ol’ fashioned gypsy magic.
I found myself so completely stressed out by the prospect of the house, I needed the distraction of dreams. And Dreamtime Oil was a great prescription for creative and restful sleep. I’d come up with some of my best ideas while using the oil. All the same, you had to be careful about overdoing it—meaning, you couldn’t use it too often, because it was quite a strain on your subconscious mind. Once a month and you were good to go. GG had learned that the hard way…
I plugged in the diffuser just after bath time. Finn grumbled about the smell, but was almost immediately pacified by the offer to watch one more episode of Spongebob instead of having to go to sleep.
As for me, I expected to lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’d dragged us both into. But when my head hit the pillow and I inhaled the scent of the oil, my eyelids slammed down like heavy steel shutters.
And the dream began almost instantly.
Ordinarily, Dreamtime Oil took me to my happy places: the scenic meadow that lay a mile from GG’s sprawling country home in Washington State. Sometimes I’d end up sitting on the teakwood patio of a friend’s vacation home in Belize, inhaling briny air, watching the crystalline blue waves roll in the early morning sun.
So, it was something of a shock to find my dream self in a darkened room I didn’t recognize, staring at a shadowy figure I didn’t know. A small shaft of moonlight trickled out from between a pair of green gingham curtains. A woman’s foot was illuminated, and I watched as she curled her painted toes into the carpet in apparent agitation.
I was standing close enough to feel the baby-fine strands of the woman’s hair kiss my face. That was when I realized I was locked into the woman, like a shadow moving just behind her. Not quite a part of her, but existing just on her periphery.
When she drifted, ghost-like, through the shaft of moonlight, I was forced onward, just behind her. And I could feel something—something heavy. Rage saturating the air. My mouth burned, like there was a habanero stuck halfway down my throat. I felt like I could spit pure flame.
But this wasn’t my anger. It was hers.
If I strained, I could actually catch the tenor of her thoughts. They popped like furious bubbles inside my head. As if her anger was my own.
He was upstairs. I could smell him up there.
The odious little man always wore too much cologne. He thought he was so much better than me...
The second the thought burst into my head, I strained to get loose of the dream because it was a type of dream you never wanted to have—one of those nightmares that threatened to submerge you, to take you along for the ride, whether you wanted to go or not.
I tried to separate myself from the woman, tried to wake myself up, but no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t command my sleeping mind. Usually, I was good at this—usually I had control over my dreaming self—I’d mastered the art of lucid dreaming, but tonight that knowledge seemed far away.
I’d show him he wasn’t any better than me! The thoughts continued to rage. And if I didn’t get what I wanted, he would be the one to suffer…
These weren’t my thoughts, and I wanted no part of them. But whatever the unseen force that had tugged my brain into this nightmare scenario, it wasn’t letting me escape so easily. Every time I tried to divorce myself, tried to take control of the dream, and wake myself up, I only managed to find my dream self right back where I just was, joined to this woman.
