Page 108 of A Heart So Haunted
Then it hit me: When Emma and I had been looking for batteries when the light turned on and off, one of the boards had been stained a different color.
I’d heard a little boy crying at night. Every hour, on the dot. It continued for weeks. So imagine my surprise when I get a contractor to replace the floorboards and he finds not one, but two different child’s shoes, a toy train, a couple wooden boxes, and a tiny bowler hat.
I thought I’d fixed it—I’d found the little boy’s remains. Maybe he was attached to the toys and the shoes since they’d been his, I don’t know. I burned them, thinking it’d stop whatever was going on. Salt and burn, incense and cleanse. For a while it worked.
But then it started again. I guess that old lore about shooing spirits away doesn’t work after all. I read somewhere else that traumatic events can amplify energies, and sometimes I wonder if the house itself was a beacon for bad things. That something was already there, besides the child, that made it worse.
So I don’t know what else to do, Lanny. The crying won’t stop. I’ve read every article online, watched so many videos,pulled my hair out over this, and I’m starting to worry that whatever is going on will always be that way. I even asked the library for records and had a girl come out to take a peek, but I’ll be honest, I gave up after that. I don’t know if it’s worth trying to fix anymore, and to be honest, I’m tired.
I’m sorry, honey. But I couldn’t not tell you. I had to at least let you know. Who knows, maybe you can fix up the place and sell it one day.
Now—the safety deposit box key. I’ve gone ahead and put some of the jewelry I don’t wear in there for safe keeping, just in case. I have the papers to the Beetle in there, too, with a couple of bonds that I never cashed. They aren’t much, but the ring was your Granny’s, and the necklace was one of mine. The earrings were supposed to be a wedding present for you one day, so if you’re reading this after you’re married, I hope you liked them. I thought they were pretty. If you aren’t married, take Emma to Vegas and pawn them or something. Make a memory out of them. Just please don’t give them to your momma.
I love you, dear. And I’m sorry for how life’s been so far. But you’ve got this. You’ve turned a corner, and if not yet, I know you will soon. I can feel it in these old bones like you can smell rain on the wind on a humid summer day.
I love you bunches,
Aunt Denny
I folded the page back up and stared at my steering wheel.
Like you can smell rain on the wind on a humid summer day.
She’d tried. She’d gotten no further than I had, not really, except I knew what some of the symbols meant. And I had the man from inside to prove that what she’d heard wasn’t a simple spirit haunting the halls.
There’s something about grief that ages a person. One moment, you’re alive and breathing, and the world is colorful but quick. The lines are blurred and you’re moving, you can feel the air on your skin and hear everything at once. But then the grief slows you down.Latches you into a single place and makes you watch as everyone else passes you by.
I wanted to think. I wanted to get up and move, I wanted to put pieces together, I wanted to comb through the attic and try and find the things she’d mentioned, but my chest hurt. My chest hurt so bad, and I wanted to sit in my car and cry.
And then all I could think of was the two little shoes she said she found. The bowler hat and the toy train. And I found that I was grieving not just for my aunt, right then, but the little boy that never had a chance to be a child, and how I never would have met that man if none of that horrid abuse hadn’t happened.
Whether I was ready to admit it or not, I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Whatever loop kept him here, whatever was changing with his appearance—something was going on whether we were ready or not. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the end of it looked like.
Because for the first time in a long while, I felt a little alive. The barbs in my chest weren’t the prettiest, but I knew they were there. I’d stepped on the platform.
I didn’t need to step back off now. But the idea of telling Hadrian about the items Aunt Cadence found made my stomach churn.
Would he be excited about them? Try to find them? Should I be happy for him?
I didn’t know.
I sealed the envelope, tucked it into the center console, and drove home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma texted the following night, saying she might be coming back a day early, only to text again, unsure. When I asked why, she said she had to go to the office that afternoon and considered staying at her apartment because of the late hour. The drive from her apartment to Harthwait wasn’t terrible, but Emma always went to bed early, and the thought of late-night driving didn’t appeal to her.
EMMA:doubt will make it until morning
I sat on the couch in the living room, moving images around on my mood board. Four color-coded sticky notes ran along the arm of the couch. One for base colors, one to write item aesthetics, a third for the story they wanted to tell in their home, and the last for miscellaneous. I took a screenshot of what I had so far and sent it to a client.
Should I text her back? Would she care? Or was she just letting me know?
I frowned.
LANDRY:That’s fine, don’t want you to drive too late. I’ll be here either way
I stared at my text. The glow from my tablet burned, so I turned it face down as I thought about my next words. Days had passed since Mom showed up. Still, not a word from Emma about Penny and Vince.
