Ghosts from the Past Read online

By the time I’d finished the section, it was past noon. I was calmer. Nothing had happened, although even with the mask I’d found in one of the office supply boxes I had sneezed a few times given the amount of dust in the air. Such were the problems of old books.

  I stood, making sure I had the walkie-talkie, and started down towards the dining hall. I’d wash in the funny little powder room around the corner from the kitchen.

  I felt a sudden chill when I passed by the main front doors. I glanced over, wondering if one of them were open, but they were closed tight. I even noticed new locks on them, shiny against the dullness and dust of so much of the rest of the place.

  Still, it was cold. I hurried away down the hallway, shadows falling around like several large dogs I might take for a walk on a leash. I looked around for what might be making those shadows but saw nothing. The house was unusually silent.

  This was worse than the usual sounds. My heart started to race again.

  I heard a footfall behind me, loud in the silence.

  I turned but there was no one there.

  I felt in my pocket for the walkie-talkie, glad to find the smooth plastic still there, in case I needed it.

  I walked quickly, my shoes squeaking loudly against the too-silent floor.

  No other footfalls pursued me.

  The dining hall was empty, but I smelled food, both the fresher smells of tomato, probably a soup, and less fresh smells of bacon, probably from this morning. At least that was a normal thing.

  I hurried towards the kitchen, glancing at the sideboard, glad to see there was plenty of fresh lunch meat and bread as well as soup.

  A pot clanged against the counter in the kitchen. Pat and Bob were working as usual, murmuring to each other about getting something prepared for dinner. I gave them a smile and a wave before going into the bathroom to wash.

  My face was pale in the mirror, my eyes looking haunted. Of course, that would be normal for someone who was being haunted, wouldn’t it?

  Chapter 13

  Back in the library, I lost myself in the work. Each book was a new challenge and a new puzzle. While most were musty, there were three shelves of books that all smelled faintly of citrus. They didn’t appear to be books owned by women, so I could only conclude that whoever had owned them was a lover of oranges. One of them was an early graphic medical text.

  I looked through it, the pages making a soft sound as I turned them, a pleasant counterpoint to the louder groans and creaks of the house. The pictures I found were detailed but often quite inaccurate. The medical knowledge there would have been amusing if I wasn’t certain that this was a book people had relied on for healthcare information.

  Wound cleaning relied on alcohol that would also be used for drink. There was no mention of washing hands or cleaning a wound. I didn’t know if the herbs mentioned would be helpful or not, but there were some graphic descriptions of gangrene that I didn’t care to read about.

  Other books were more pleasant. There were a couple on political philosophy. One on plants. They were all just piled together. While they weren’t exactly grouped by year, those that were out of place were usually only a few years older than the others. I began to think that these books had been kept in order of purchase. That would have been fine in a small library, but in one this size? I had no idea how anyone had ever found anything.

  I continued with my cataloging, looking at each book to see if any of them were obviously moldy. Those would get sequestered to try and keep the mold from spreading, though I suspected once I found any mold, the entire shelf, if not the whole section, was likely to be done for. So far things had looked pretty good, which was a surprise given everything else I’d found.

  I got so engrossed in my work that I was surprised to note when it was nearly five in the afternoon. The sun was lower in the sky, hitting at such an angle as to bathe the whole room in a flickering orange glow. I felt as if I were in a burning house, and my heart leapt a bit when I first noticed it. Fortunately, I was getting used to such shocks and quickly calmed myself.

  I decided to pause and see if I could contact Tessie. I had emailed her and hadn’t received anything back. Skype was installed on the system and I tried giving her a ring, although there was no answer. I also got a warning that the video wasn’t clear. Finally as I was about to hang up, I also got a warning that my sound wasn’t very good either.

  I rung off, hoping she’d notice and perhaps worry about me a little bit. I sent her another note to remind her my phone may not be working very well and to ask if we could set up a time where I could talk to her via the computer. I suggested Saturday or Sunday when I could feel okay about taking some time off and chatting. If nothing else, I could drive into town and use my cell phone. Sydney would have to have cell phone service.

  I put a few books back on the shelves. My hand brushed against the edge of one of the sections and it felt rough. I rubbed at it a little and a piece of wood shifted, leaving a small opening, which didn’t look like a naturally rotted spot in the upright piece of lumber.

  I left the books, bringing over the electric lantern. The opening was probably too small to hold a rat, but if there were large spiders in there, I had no desire to touch one.

  I shone the lantern in there. The spiders in the alcove were long dead, only stray dark parts left on webs that were old and frail. A small book sat in there but I couldn’t read a title from that angle.

  I walked back to the desk moving quickly around the low bookshelves that separated me from the wall. I searched through the drawers, thankful to find a ruler. I used that to brush away the webs and to pull the book out of its alcove. Having made sure nothing was on the back of the book, I lifted it carefully, dusting it off. I put a post it on the section and then filled the books back in.

  I walked to the desk, taking this book with me. It was small and thin. When I opened it—carefully, not knowing how well preserved it was—I realized that it was a bankbook. But why would it be hidden in such a small place? And how had it gotten left there? Did Bethany know about it? Perhaps she had even more of an inheritance than she thought.

  I wanted to rush it to her and then go to the bank that had issued it to see what fortune was there now. Naturally, it wasn’t my place to do such a thing.

  I was hesitant to take the book out of the library. The change in temperature wouldn’t be good for it, though its only value would be if there was money in the account left behind. Still, once you start archiving, it’s hard to break that habit, so I hesitated while I pondered what was best for the book.

  I didn’t like the idea of leaving it in the library either. Surely it had been hidden for a reason. I thought of my phone going missing. Was that thief looking for a bankbook? What if Bethany wasn’t the only heir?

  I told myself I’d read too many mysteries. I put the little book in the bottom drawer of the desk and pushed it towards the back, so it wasn’t easily seen. Then I put a bunch of the index cards I used to make notes on in the front of the drawer. It would hide the book without really touching it or covering it up. I’d mention it to Bethany when I got her alone.

  I closed the drawer, still thinking. I shut off the computer, listening as it powered down. The house settled around me, sounds that I was beginning to get used to. Then I went back through the dining hall, intending to go to my room and wash up. I wasn’t late for dinner this time.

  Back upstairs I heard someone playing the piano again. Once again, it was silenced when I closed my door. It had to be someone across the hall, I thought. After all, I should be able to hear it otherwise. I could hear doors slamming and people walking down the hall. Tonight I even heard something heavy fall on the floor above me.

  I didn’t jump despite the unexpected thud right above my head. I must have been getting used to things in Schilling Manor.

  I took off my sweater and washed up in the bathroom. I had enough time to change my shirt. I hated to put the sweater back on. It needed a good wash but I had nothing else that
would easily hold the walkie-talkie in a pocket. I searched through my things and came up with an oversized shirt that had a large pocket on the breast. I looked silly carrying the walk-talkie there but I could hold on to it, maybe, and then just use the pocket if I had to.

  I decided to do that. I’d also have to ask someone about laundry. Did someone do it for us or was there a coin operated machine someplace?

  I picked up my phone, looking for any messages. I had a call from my mom and one from Tessie. I also had one from a friend at work. There was one voicemail which I was pretty sure was from Mom. I tried listen to it but I had no bars. I moved closer to the window to try and retrieve it and that helped.

  I could hear Mom’s message, just.

  I had a couple of texts as well, and as I stood near the window three more came in. One was from Tessie, saying that it sounded like I was pretty cut off from everything.

  I sighed and plugged the phone back in, although I wasn’t sure why I was doing so. It wasn’t like I’d used any power. It made me wonder how I was supposed to charge the walkie-talkies.

  Another thing to ask when I went down to dinner.

  I decided I’d go down, even if I was a little early. I could have some coffee while I waited. Not that I really needed more caffeine, but I was feeling out of sorts. I wanted to talk to Bethany but wasn’t sure where to find her in the Manor or how to set up a time to talk. I was going to have find out where and how people scheduled these meetings too, rather than just hoping to run into someone at a meal.

  I picked up my key and the walkie talkie and then headed down the hall to the stairs. Jonathan came out of his room as I passed by. I paused to wait for him.

  “Early tonight, then,” Jonathan said. “Usually you come straight from the library.”

  “I worried if I started a new shelf I’d get lost and forget the time,” I said. “So I came up and got changed.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I do that all the time. I missed dinner once and didn’t notice until it was getting dark. I had to call out for help on the walkie-talkie. Everyone left the table to come find me. It seemed like forever before they did. I was lucky I always carried a lantern with me because it was dark where I was.”

  “It’s weird that you get lost in this place. I almost did this afternoon just in this hallway. It was like it changed.”

  “I try to remind myself that the kids in Harry Potter didn’t find the changing stairs in Hogwarts scary, but this place gives me the creeps. I’m probably just going crazy or something. Maybe there’s some toxic mold.”

  We were halfway down the stairs when he said that. “Do you suppose?” I asked. Wasn’t that what they blamed the witch hunt in Salem on? Could there be any truth?

  “I’ve no idea,” Jonathan said. “But it makes far more sense than the house moving hallways and corridors randomly, don’t you think?”

  He was right about that. We turned towards the kitchen, waving at Pat and Bob who returned the greetings. I asked Jonathan about laundry. He said I just had to leave it out and marked for the people who cleaned the room every day.

  “I do mine every Friday, so they’re busy then. I have no idea how careful they are about keeping things separated. I’d hate to find your bras in with my shirts.”

  Jonathan had a way of making me laugh. We both got water from the pitchers that had already been set out. Jonathan breathed deeply. I didn’t smell much so I wondered what was on the menu.

  “Low smells for dinner means they can make it fast. Probably a stir fry. We’ll have a choice to add meat or not,” Jonathan said. “No salad probably because they figure there are plenty of vegetables in the stir fry. After, they usually make some sort of baked or fried apple. I think it’s the closest to baking those two get, and honestly, those apples are heavenly!”

  It sounded good and different from our other meals. I was looking forward to it. Given that Nova Scotia relied so heavily on seafood I was surprised we hadn’t gotten more, something I mentioned to Jonathan.

  “Seafood here is always fresh. It’s hard when you live so far out. We may get most of the food fresh because we can’t count on the electricity, but it’s hard to plan for varying numbers of people with seafood.”

  It sort of made sense.

  We chatted about small things while we waited and sipped our water with lemon.

  Nathan came in with Bethany and the two waved at us.

  “So how is everything going?” Bethany asked.

  “I found something I wanted to show you,” I said. “I was wondering if we could meet sometime tomorrow.”

  “Book questions should go to Nathan,” Bethany said.

  “I’m not sure it’s a book. I found it hidden in a small compartment,” I told her. “I think it is something you ought to see.”

  Bethany gave Nathan a look then said, “We’ll both come down to the library about nine or so, right after breakfast. You can show us then. But really this sort of thing should go through Nathan.”

  Nathan nodded. “It does sound unusual, so chances are I’d want to show you anyway.”

  Bethany gave him a look that said they’d discuss that later.

  I tried to remember what had been said before. Bethany had been sweet and smiling and assuring me that I could come to her with any questions. Clearly any questions meant general things that she could talk to me about and not specific questions about the collection. Or else she worried that people would be taking up too much of her time. I wondered exactly what it was she did while the rest of us were pawing through her inheritance trying to put specific valuations on it.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning, after a dinner of stir fry—which was tasty—and conversation—which was interesting, if mundane—and then an evening of reading the letters as best I could, I woke feeling more refreshed than I had in several days. I hadn’t been kept up by ghosts nor by power outages that made me think of ghosts. I washed with the lightly scented soap I’d brought along, a familiar spicy scent, and was finally relaxed enough to enjoy it.

  I hadn’t learned anything much from the letters the evening before. They were just letters between two people who increasingly seemed to be in love with each other. A few were short letters, asking to meet “in their place” which could have been anywhere, though I felt I could narrow it down to someplace outside on the grounds. I also came to learn, over the course of reading, that the mysterious beau was likely some sort of stone mason. It wasn’t much of a lead but it was as much as I could find.

  I would look to see if I could find any ledgers in the library and see if I could match a name to the beau. I remembered Jonathan’s story, and that gave me other bits and pieces I could patch together to get a better picture of the couple.

  I heard a door close softly across the way when I was nearly dressed to start work. I paused to leave my dirty clothes in a pile on the chair with a note for the cleaning person. I’d love to have my sweater back. The house was so dusty that even my oversized shirt was beginning to feel faintly gritty and I’d only worn that once. I left my room and started down the hallway.

  Bethany was just coming out of her room.

  “Good morning!” She was bright and cheery even before coffee. I wasn’t sure I could take it.

  “Good morning,” I said, thankful that I wasn’t as worn out this morning as I had been the other two days.

  “I wanted to tell you that I appreciate you coming to me about something that you found,” Bethany said. “Nathan hates it when his workers go directly to me, though. He’s a wonderful coordinator but he can be a bit fussy.”

  She had waited until we were safely in the kitchen before mentioning that. Bob and Pat weren’t paying us any attention. I smelled bacon, eggs, and cheese and wondered what wonderful things they’d made for us that morning.

  “I had no idea,” I said. “It was just that it seemed more personal than something from a library which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

  The dining room was quiet when we
passed through the entry to it. Only Jonathan sat at the table, but he appeared lost in through, sipping at his mug of coffee. The smell of coffee and bacon made my mouth water.

  “I understand,” Bethany said. “And I don’t mind, really. In fact, I keep an office on the other side of the kitchen. It’s not terribly quiet with Bob and Pat and the pots and pans all day, plus you hear the bell from the side door, which is what everyone uses, but I get halfway decent phone reception if I’m by the window. And there’s a set of French doors to the outside if I need to go out there and talk!”

  So she did have an office. I had imagined her upstairs near the main bedrooms, but I suppose it worked well to have an office near the kitchen.

  “Ah, frittatas this morning,” Bethany breathed in, walking quickly over to the sideboard. “My favorite.”

  I grabbed my mug and got coffee first. Then I joined her at the sideboard. She was toasting an English muffin to go with her frittata. I added some of the fruit to my plate. There were muffins but I wasn’t that interested in those just then.

  I settled in to start eating. Jonathan had a plate that was mostly empty but for a few crumbs and a bread plate that held a muffin that was still waiting to be eaten.

  He smiled and nodded and soon enough we were all chatting away about food and the weather and general topics that are always safe to discuss among workers.

  It wasn’t long before I was down to just my coffee, the mug wonderfully warm in my hands. The dining hall was one of the warmer rooms in the Manor, at least in June. I wondered if that would continue to be true when July and August came. I had looked it up so I knew that Nova Scotia could get fairly warm and quite humid during the late summer. As far as I could tell there was no air conditioning, which meant the place might be rather stifling later on, but for now it was comfortable to cool.

  Cold, if you counted the freezing spots that moved around like the wandering phantom they just might be harbingers of.

  I finished my coffee and headed to the library. Bethany didn’t follow me. I wondered if she’d wait for Nathan, who, unusually, still wasn’t at breakfast.