Heartthrobs and Hauntings: A Sweet Paranormal Romance Comedy

1

A distant sound echoed up and down the corridor, giving the impression that something further within the castle had slammed shut. The deceased inhabitants of the castle were accustomed to such noises, having endured them for centuries.

The living had awakened.

“I am so cold,” Baby whined, floating into the room. The pale blonde curls that had once bounced with every step now hung unmoving upon her head. “Ow.” She mumbled as her hip drifted through the corner of the high-backed chair, but given she had no flesh, she would not have sensed a thing.

Widow rolled her eyes. “Not again. If you keep complaining about being cold, I think I will throw myself out the window.”

“Please do. I would love to be entertained,” Beauty said in her slight French accent.

Baby held her chin high as she moved to the four-poster bed and tried to lay her body upon it. Oh, how she wished she could feel the soft sheets press against her skin again. Hovering over the down mattress never satisfied her desire to rest. Yet, after two hundred years, she continued to try.

Widow stood straighter, moved to the window, and peered through the gap in the curtain. The slamming of car doors outside brought everyone’s attention to where the gray daylight shone into the room through the weathered, gothic windowpane. “Oh, look. The master is leaving again.”

Beauty frowned. “How disappointing. I had wished to wake him tonight.”

“He von’t vake. He is used to you shuffling about in his room,” Baby stated, then wondered why she had spoken the sentence in such an odd way. Did I once have an accent I have forgotten?

“Oh, but he is nice to look at,” Beauty said with a crooked grin.

“That he is—if only he did not have so many faults,” Widow lamented, continuing to gaze out the window.

“If only? Even if he were perfect, it is not likely you could catch him in your web,” Beauty sneered, sticking a knitting needle into her pompadour to scratch her itchy scalp. Her corset creaked from the wiggle of her arm. Of the three women in the room, Beauty was the most elaborately dressed—hence her nickname. Her silk open-bodice gown hugged her waist and flowed over the wide, square hoop skirt accentuating her hips. A decorative stomacher covered her chest, but only just. Her lace-trimmed bell sleeves hung to her elbows. In short ... she was constantly irritated.

“But would it not be nice just to be held again?” Widow sighed.

“Please, Widow, do not start pining over your lost love. It has been a hundred years; it is time you were over it.”

Widow turned from the window and scowled at Beauty, her nightgown making a large swish that didn’t stir the thick dust around her. “Merely because you’ve been here the longest doesn’t grant you exclusive rights to mourn your lost life. One hundred years is a long time, too.”

“She is not saying—”

“Do not start on me too, Baby,” Widow interrupted with a growl.

“Do not call me Baby. I hate that nickname you have given me.” Baby stood and placed her hands on her hips. “I am nearly sixteen.” She paused and thought. “At least, I think I am.”

“Two hundred and sixteen,” Widow said.

“Well, we could not very well call you by your true name, could we?” Beauty sighed. All three of them wished they could remember their proper names. As time went on, they forgot more and more of their lives. First, their names, then how they died, and then memories of their lives began to fade. Beauty remembered the least of all of them. Baby had forgotten almost as much. Widow clung to her memories like a toddler with a toy.

Beauty scratched her scalp again, then tried to reach her back.

Widow rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Had I died in my nightdress as you did, I would not itch as I do,” Beauty said contemptuously.

“Wearing a nightdress is not as comfortable as you might think. It is drafty,” Widow retorted.

Baby had heard this conversation one too many times. She always stayed out of it if she could. She considered herself lucky to be wearing her frock and Spencer jacket. The empire waist of her muslin gown fit her perfectly, and she never complained—well, not much—only about the cold. She was always cold like Widow, though she could never explain why.

“I would take a draft over an itch any day,” Beauty frowned and wiggled.

Judging by the scowl on Widow’s face, she’d had enough. She grew tired of the same old conversations. “You know, I think I will throw myself out the window.” And with that, she floated swiftly toward the dark curtain and hurtled through it without disturbing the curtain or the glass.

Baby moved to the window and watched Widow float down to the ground. She rolled her eyes. “Always so melodramatic.”

Jessica

“One shelf of miscellaneous memorabilia down, twenty billion more to go.” I sighed, eyes glazed over with tears and berated myself for not visiting Nana long ago to help her dejunk her home. We would have had less to do now. “How are we ever gonna finish moving her out in time?”

“We might have to hire out,” Mom answered, voice thick with emotion.

“Yeah,” I shoved a box aside with my foot, “but they won’t know what to keep and what to chuck.”

“True—oh! I nearly forgot! Nana left a letter for you. Let me go get that.” She eased to her feet with her hand pressed to her back. She shuffled through the mess in the living room and returned with an envelope.

I took it from her, noticing the scent of Nana—roses and vanilla. The idea that she misted her perfume on the paper had me smiling.

Gingerly, I opened the envelope and read.

To my sweet Jessy,

It should come as no surprise that I won’t live forever. The years have caught up to me, and by golly, I’ve run out of time. I’m not as chipper as I once was, so now I’m passing the torch on to you. I’ve saved for years and planned to go in search of my long-lost niece who’d run off with her lover to England. It was my uncle’s dying wish for her to know that the family still loved her. It hurts me that I never fulfilled his wish. By then, I’d had children to tend and look after, bills to pay, and a house to clean. I vowed to go when my kids were grown, but health, bills, and life kept me back. I can’t do it anymore.

But you can.

I’ve enclosed the money I’ve saved and some information I’ve collected about my niece. Go find her while you’re still young and can fully enjoy the manor houses, castles, and rich foods we old people can’t digest.

I love you forever and ever.

Nana

With my hand against my chest, I blinked away the tears. Sure, it was great to have a gift so freaking fantastic from my nana, but I’d rather have her still alive and endlessly watching the Lawrence Welk Show or Hallmark movies, sitting three feet from the TV so she could see it.

I’d already cried enough to last a lifetime, so I forced a laugh through my tears. “Well, hot diggity dog! Look what she wrote.” I handed the letter to Mom, who was sorting through the two piles of items, deciding what to keep and what to donate. Even in Nana’s assisted living apartment, there was an abundance of clutter and mementos that could easily get lost in the shuffle.

When I returned to packing my grandma’s belongings, my gaze landed on something that made me giggle. Never missing an opportunity to make my BFF laugh, I pulled out my phone and texted her. I probably should’ve checked the time since she lived in England, and I was on the other side of the world in Wyoming. Oh, well.

Me: Heads up, I’m gonna send you a pic of my knockers.

I laughed maniacally and handed my phone to my mom.

“Take a pic for me, will ya?”

She set the letter aside and wiped away a tear. “You’re going to England, right?”

“Perhaps.”

“No perhaps. You will go. It’s her dying wish.”

She’s right. I knew as soon as I read the letter I had to go. The problem was I’d never traveled on my own, and the idea gave me anxiety. But with my BFF waiting for me, ready to act as my tour guide, I had no reason not to go.

I held the door knockers from the movie Labyrinth up to my chest and grinned for the photo. Mom rolled her eyes, took the picture, and returned my phone. “You act like a teenager.”

“I teach teenagers for a living, Mom. Of course, I’m gonna act like them once in a while.”

“You’re weird.” How many times had I heard her say that throughout my life? I can’t count that high.

Just as I opened the text app, the phone chimed.

Crystal: Okaaay. Isn’t it too early in the day for you to be drunk?

I sent the picture along with the text, It’s very rude to stare, and I waited for the response I knew would come quickly.

Crystal: What beautiful knockers!

Me: I’m glad you like them. ;)

Crystal: They aren’t quite the same size as in the movie, though.

Me: Hey, size doesn’t matter, you know.

Crystal: *Laughing emoji.*

Me: BTW, be prepared for a bit of crazy cuz I’m coming to see you.

Jessica

“I’m glad you talked me into staying in town,” I said after a big yawn. Jet lag was already kicking my butt. Hopefully, I could stay awake during the drive to really take in the English countryside. “Trying to find this long-lost relative in the Archives may take some time.”

Crystal shoved her suitcase into the back seat of her sedan. I pushed my bags beside hers and then slid into the passenger seat. We drove out of her driveway just after ten in the morning, two hours later than we planned. “It might take us several trips there and back before we find anything.”

“It’ll be better to stay in town, then,” I said, thinking of the sites we planned to stop at along the way into Leeds. “So, what’s the name of this castle, and where is it?”

“Wrenthal Castle. It’s a little off the beaten path and it just opened for tours. Hardly anyone travels up that road, but the drive’s breathtaking, and the castle is worth seeing, so I hear. I couldn’t find a website for the castle, but a friend told me it’s open for tours, so hopefully, it’s open when we get there. It’s only ten miles away.”

“How’s the kids?”

She grinned, driving a little too fast for my liking through a three-lane roundabout. My butt cheeks clenched until we made it through. “Oh, the little devils are adorable when they want to be. Growing too fast for my liking. They’re staying with Mike’s mom since he’s out of town for work.”

It’s weird to know that my high school best friend was married and had two little booger pickers. Surely, we’re not that old! Hearing about her life made me feel like life was passing me by. All I could say for myself was I was a teacher who lived with my parents and had a couple of failed relationships that didn’t go beyond a couple of months.

Still, I could smile and be happy for her, shove that jealousy monster deep inside where it belonged, and beat it with a club.

We drove three times the distance she’d given, and I questioned how accurate her perceptions were. We sang along to High School Musical and laughed over some of the fashion trends that had come and gone. It was like old times.

“Oh, here’s the turn.” She pulled off the main highway and turned down a road that took us across the countryside. Green fields passed by as we talked. Speckled here and there were meadows of yellow flowers, broken up by groups of trees and cottages. After another ten minutes, we continued on a smaller, less traveled road.

Without warning, Crystal slammed on the brakes. My hands slapped against the dashboard. “Whoa! We nearly passed it!”

“I’d like to keep my front teeth. Thank you very much,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled with a smirk, turning the corner onto a pothole-ridden lane stretching into the trees.

“This is off the beaten path,” I said. I leaned forward to look up through the windshield at the dark clouds above.

After a few slow miles, I caught a scent that concerned me. Rolling down the window, I sniffed. “I smell something burning. Rubber kind of burn.”

“That’s not a good sign,” Crystal said, checking her dash. The car sputtered and clacked, then abruptly, it gave up and stopped right in the middle of the narrow lane.

We paused, looking at each other in silence. “Now what? That didn’t sound like an easy fix,” I said. I knew a little about fixing engines, mainly on tractors. My dad had taught me how to fix the easy things, but it had been a while since I’d needed to look at an engine, and I was no mechanic.

Crystal shook her head, pulled out her cell phone, and checked the bars. “I don’t have a proper signal out here,” she said forlornly.

“Maybe you can find a signal if we walk around a bit.” I pulled out my phone and discovered that I, too, had nothing to offer.

“Let’s walk to the castle. It’s the closest thing around. Maybe the owner will have a phone for us to borrow.” She got out of the car, and I followed.

I tipped my head toward the sky. “What’s the likelihood that it will start raining?”

Crystal looked to the sky just as the first drops of rain hit my nose.

“I’d say pretty likely,” she laughed. “Race you to the castle!” She held her purse over her head and ran. I followed her example, zipping up my purse so its contents wouldn’t spill out. I watched the ground to avoid falling into the potholes that were rapidly filling with water, and in doing so, I missed the fact that we had arrived. I paused just as we passed the rusty iron gate. The giant oak trees around us almost hid the castle from view. The ivy growing up on the sides of the stone castle gave it an ancient, fairytale feel. Towers and walls rose high above the trees, old, but majestic. Narrow, arched windows spaced high above the ground, and I wondered how much light could possibly spread to the inside.

I walked slowly as I studied the old building. Not paying attention to where I was going, I ran right into Crystal’s back just as I passed under the shelter of an arched entry. “Oof! Sorry.”

“Check out these knockers,” Crystal joked, waving at the large decorative iron knockers on the door. “See, size does matter.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t dis my knockers.” We both giggled like immature teens. Oh, it was so good to be back with my dorky friend. I’ve missed her.

She swung the knocker against the large wooden door. I used my phone’s camera to take a picture of the eye-level knockers with what appeared like a family crest engraved and painted on them. From top to bottom, thick iron bolts held the wood door together, giving it an ancient feel. “What if no one’s home?”

“Then we’re going to get even more drenched,” Crystal grumbled. “Who doesn’t have a bell to ring? Given how large the place is, you would think they’d have one.”

“Knock again,” I suggested. Several more knocks echoed through the home.

A moment later, the large door creaked open. Old, small eyes peered out at us at chest level. “We aren’t doing tours,” the old woman stated, then began to shut the door.

“Wait! Please,” Crystal called to stop her. “Our car broke down nearly two kilometers from here. Do you, by chance, have a phone we can use?”

The woman took in our appearances as if worried we might rob her. She must have concluded that we were telling the truth and let us in. Chills ran up my back the moment I crossed the threshold. The dim, medieval entry included a curved staircase on the right. Carved stone with iron rails made up the banister that followed the stone steps to the second floor. Every few feet, wooden beams held the stone walls and ceiling in place. Even a knight’s suit of armor stood against one wall. Old sconces or candlesticks hung, and electric cords ran along the walls to light some of them. Some were left with only candles that dripped wax upon the stone floor.

“This way. Don’t touch anything.” The hunched woman shuffled into a large room with a grand piano at one end while a settee and several stiff wingback chairs gathered at the other end before a magnificent fireplace. Its carved mantle looked like it had taken an entire mountain of marble to create. Against another wall stood a grandfather clock, complete with a swaying pendulum. The woman stopped and pointed at a small, round table where an ancient rotary dial telephone rested. “You may use that.” Without making eye contact, she hurried from the room, closing the large doors behind her.

I rubbed my hands together in front of my face and grinned. “Wow. Kind of spooky, isn’t it?”

“This is my first time inside, and I have to say, it doesn’t disappoint,” Crystal whispered, joining in my examination of the room.

Large, morbid-looking paintings hung on the walls. Their half-naked subjects all suffered from battles and broken hearts. The light in the room barely illuminated them enough to show the paint strokes.

Crystal shivered. “Creepy.”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of exciting!” I bounced on my toes. “Wouldn’t it be great to explore this place in the dark on All Hallows Eve?” My blood pulsed with the thrill of standing in the historic abode.

“Yes and no,” Crystal answered. She moved to the table and slowly dialed her husband’s number, then waited for him to answer.

Just as I faintly heard someone say hello on the other end, the lights in the room flickered out. Both Crystal and I gasped.

“Hello?” Crystal said into the phone. “Hello? Mike?” She pressed the button on the cradle with her finger, then sighed and replaced the receiver. “Lovely. The phone and lights are dead.”