3
”You won’t believe it!” Baby said as she flew into the room where Beauty and Widow argued.
Beauty sat a little straighter. “What?”
“There’s a person in the castle.” If Baby had a heartbeat, she was sure it would beat wildly.
“There are always people in the castle,” Widow moaned.
“No. A new person.”
Both Widow and Beauty stood with eyes wide. “What?”
“I saw a woman I’ve never seen before, sitting in the kitchen eating our food.”
“Why does it matter that she’s eating the food? It’s not like we can eat it,” Widow answered.
“Even still, it’s rude.”
Beauty floated past Baby in a hurry to see for herself. Widow and Baby followed anxiously. Before they could float into the lower entryway hall, someone stepped into the corridor at the top of the stairs.
“The master is homa,” Widow narrowed her eyes in confusion at her sudden accent and tried again, “home.” The three ghosts continued without a pause, knowing the master wouldn’t acknowledge them. He hadn’t taken notice of them for quite some time. It was almost like he’d forgotten about them.
They moved together over the banister and floated down to the entry below. “Would she still be in the kitchen?” Beauty asked.
“I wouldn’t think so. After seeing me, she ran, screaming from the room,” Baby answered.
“Perhaps she ran out of the castle,” Widow frowned. “If that be the case, I’m a little disappointed.”
“Let us check to be sure.” Baby floated through the dining room, past the two women. She briefly stuck her head into the kitchen through the wall then spun to face Widow. “There are two women. Both are talking with Bridgett.”
“Why would they have come here? It’s not like Bridgett to bring outsiders into the castle,” Widow said. “Let me see for myself.” She stuck her head through the wall. One woman ate a banana as she listened to her friend talk.
Beauty looked as well and listened to what they had to say.
Beauty gasped, moving back into the dining room with Widow and Baby close behind. “This is not good.”
“What is it?” Baby asked her.
“That woman is American.”
“Are you sure?” Baby asked.
“Yes. I recognized her accent also,” Widow stated.
Beauty wrung her hands together. “Can you feel it? That foreboding feeling zat is present?”
“Well, yes, but what does it have to do with an American?” Widow asked.
“Everything. You can be sure he will do everything in his power to keep her here, but we’ll do everything to run her from here,” Beauty decided.
Dan
With a groan, I rubbed my hand down my face then along my beard. Going down and facing those two women can’t happen. Yet, I knew I would have to; after all, I was the resident, and they were my guests—well, sort of. I didn’t want to be rude, and I didn’t want to leave them to deal with their misfortunes alone. Staying here any longer wouldn’t be prudent.
Resolved to be a gentleman, I hurried to change and freshen up before heading downstairs. Before finding the two guests, I put a coat over my head and rushed out into the rain. My gardener, Ron, bent over the car under the bonnet. “Have you determined the problem?”
Ron looked up and bonked his head. Water dripped off his hat into the machinery under the bonnet. “Everything’s wrong with it. For starters, the water pump went bad, which caused the engine to overheat and made the heads warp and leak coolant into the cylinder.”
“Perhaps we could call them a tow truck.”
“Could ... if we had a phone. I understand all power and phone lines are out.”
I frowned. I knew what that meant. It sometimes took over a week for someone to come out to repair the power lines. That would mean I couldn’t work. “Maybe I could drive them into town.”
Ron nodded. “That might be best.”
I headed back inside, shook the rain off my coat then went in search of the ladies. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I grew tongue-tied once again. My eyes locked with Jessica. She smiled. The world paused, and my mind went blank. The heat in the room increased.
The brighter room light illuminated her smiling eyes, the cute upturn of her nose, the curve of her lips, and the splash of freckles across her skin, making her look heart-stoppingly beautiful.
Something stirred in my soul. Perhaps an instant connection?
What it was, I couldn’t yet tell. I only know I wished her company. To hear her speak. To watch her smile. To be the one to make her smile.
Tongue-tied, I waved Bridgett over. She scurried to me, and I whispered in her ear, “Will you t—t—ell them I’ll drive them b—b—” my sentence stuck. I sighed, hating how nerves overcame me. Pull yourself together, man. I tried again. “Drive them back into town so they can call a tow truck?”
Bridgett nodded, knowing I wouldn’t want to communicate with them on my own. “Mr. Gladwin will drive you into town if you wish to call a tow truck.”
“Oh. Okay.” Jessica stood and gave me a questioning look.
“Oh, thank you. Was the gardener not able to fix it?” Crystal asked me.
I shook my head and turned from the room in hopes of ending any more questions I’d have to answer. The women followed me with their purses hanging at their sides. Their whispers dug at me on our way out.
“We’ll need to get our luggage from our car before we head out,” Crystal stated, running to her car with her purse over her head. The three of us removed the luggage from her car, getting soaked in the process.
“Nice ride,” Jessica said as we sloshed through the wet gravel to my car. I placed the luggage in the boot of my car and shut it, finding her smiling at me. “It looks old and classy. What year is it?”
I didn’t answer.
She didn’t wait for a response before shouting, “I call shotgun!” She opened the passenger door and slid in the front of my car. “And it’s got a bench seat! I love this car!”
I was a bit surprised, thinking she’d want to sit in the back with her friend. I sat behind the wheel, feeling heat in my cheeks getting the sense that Jessica watched me. Like the ruddy idiot I am, I turned my head, getting my first close up inspection of her features. It was too dark and dim inside the house to really see her.
Now, in the dreary light of day, her beauty took me by full force.
Those eyes! Deep, dark and so full of joy. I could get lost in them.
Her lips weren’t particularly full, but they drew me in instantly.
Hey dummy, you can’t stare at her forever.
The warmth on my face increased, and I tried to focus on starting the car.
Click, click.
My eyes narrowed. Now what? The car clicked, but wouldn’t start. It had worked brilliantly a quarter of an hour ago.
Jessica chuckled deep in the back of her throat. “What are the odds?”
Here I sat, wanting to curse and she laughed. She had a smile on her face, and joked of our luck as if it were no big deal. I sighed, pulled the lever for the bonnet, and opened the door. I grabbed my umbrella under the seat and headed out into the rain.
Ron joined my side, taking cover under the bonnet.
“Sounds like it’s your starter,” he said.
“Can you take a look?”
Ron answered by bending over and fiddling with the car’s mechanics. “If it clicked when you started it, it’s your starter. You’ll need a new one.”
“Great,” I huffed. “What should I do with the ladies in the car?”
“Invite them to stay. There’s nothing else to do,” he answered.
My stomach churned at the idea. Oh, just kill me now and put me out of my misery. The passenger door opened and closed.
Jessica stepped up next to me. I moved the umbrella over her, and she blinked up at me. My heart constricted in my chest and my lungs stopped. “What’s the diagnosis?” she asked.
“Starter,” Ron answered.
“Bummer. Don’t suppose you have one kickin’ around here, do ya?” Her enduring lopsided smile moved my heart beat a bit faster. Listen, heart, you can’t keep reacting like this each time she smiles. Got it?
“Fresh out,” Ron replied. “My name is Ron. And yours?”
“Jessica Grayson.” They shook hands across the car’s engine, and then Jessica nodded toward the other car. “Did you figure out what’s wrong with Crystal’s car?”
“Several things. You’d be better off taking it to the mechanics.” He paused and glanced at me. “Looks like you’ll be staying the night, maybe longer.”
She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Really? In a castle!”
I nodded, eyes wide.
“Cool! Thanks!” She hurried back into the car, and I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice as she told her friend. Ron had the same look of bewilderment that I might’ve had. I shook my head. Americans.
A few minutes later, the four of us shook the rain off us as we stepped back into the entry hall with the ladies’ luggage. I waved at the women to have a seat in the sitting room, and I hurried into the kitchen before anyone could speak with me. I asked Bridgett if she’d heat the leftover Guinness stew and slice some bread. I didn’t want to put the burden of making a complete meal on her shoulders at such short notice. I thanked her, then went through the serving room that connected the kitchen to the dining room. I pushed the swinging door, but it stopped short with a thud.
“Ouch.”
I pulled the door toward me. Jessica was rubbing her nose in the dim light. I opened my mouth to apologize, then quickly shut it, fearing what might come out.
“Well, aren’t you going to apologize?” There was laughter in her voice which made me smile inwardly.
There wasn’t anything I could do now. It was a matter of time before she’d find out anyhow. “I’m s—s—s—sorry.” My stuttering dragged out longer than normal, and I cringed.
Her smile grew, and she placed her hand on my arm. Warmth ran through me from her touch. “What a surprise! You stutter! My brother has stuttered his whole life, and hearing you do the same makes me want to hug you just so I can feel closer to him,” she paused. “Is that weird?”
I shrugged.
Her expression changed. “Oh! That’s why you’ve been so silent.” She squeezed my arm. “Don’t worry. The stuttering won’t bother us. Crystal grew up around my brother, Carl, so we’re both used to it. In fact, it will be good to hear again.”
My heart beat a little faster, thinking that I could converse with her without her judgment. I smiled—really smiled at her. “I was just ch–ch–checking on dinner.”
“And I was just coming to see what I could do to help.” As she spoke, Crystal hurried in with stiff arms and an arched back as if expecting a great cat to claw at her back at any second. She reached Jessica and clung to her arm.
“Sorry. I couldn’t stay alone in there any longer.”
“Is there something wrong?” I asked, relieved I didn’t stutter that time. Hopefully, that was a sign that I could relax enough that it wouldn’t happen too often.
“I don’t want to see a ghost again,” she answered.
“Crystal. I really think it was something playing tricks on you from the corner of your eye,” Jessica stated.
“She could’ve seen a ghost,” I said. “This castle is haunted.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Have you seen a ghost?”
“I have—had when I was younger. I g—g—grew up in this house.”
Crystal’s eyes grew larger.
“Doesn’t he remind you of my brother, Carl?” Jessica said to her. Crystal nodded. Both women gazed at me as if adoring a cute kitten.
Okay. Maybe this wasn’t going to be better. I cleared my throat. “Don’t worry about the ghosts. They’re harmless.”
Women.
Jessica
“What I wouldn’t give for some cookies right about now,” I said not long after our meal, feeling like the only one keeping up the conversation.
“American c—cookies?” Mr. Gladwin’s head lifted with interest.
“Yep.” I sat back in my seat with a grin. “I’ve got this new recipe that I just love.”
“Do we have ingredients for cookies?” Mr. Gladwin asked
Bridgett, his eyes big and hopeful, giving him a youthful look despite the beard. I wonder if his beard is soft?
The idea of touching his beard might be absurd, but I’d had similar thoughts since the moment he walked into the kitchen and our eyes locked. There was this zing. You know, the zing that people talk about where it slaps the heart into action like it’s been dead for years and only started working again. It was like that. All I really know is the zing had me staring at his gorgeous eyes like a pre-coffee zombie. He probably thinks I’m braindead.
Bridgett nodded and stood to gather his dirty dishes.
“I’d love to try some.” Mr. Gladwin’s boyish expression made me want to laugh. More often than not, a man will revert to a child when cookies are involved. The childlike characteristics enhanced his persona. The elbow-patched brown sports coat over a T-shirt of a classic rock and roll band told me he was intelligent yet kooky. It was too early to tell.
“Great! I wanted to try out the stone oven anyway.” I stood and carried my dirty dish to the sink to rinse it off.
The kitchen warmed further when Mr. Gladwin helped stoke the fire. The more I conversed with him, the more I discovered how incredibly intelligent he was. Mostly techy intelligent. His shyness eased into a comfortable, happy disposition that drew me in. I understood his shyness in the beginning. Carl used to be the same way. But there was something about him that I couldn’t resist, maybe it was that adorable smile and those thick lashes of his.
Bridgett spoke only when spoken to, but when she did talk, she was sharp and passionate—mostly about us leaving so the spirits would settle down. Mr. Davidson was all right. He seemed eager to ask questions about me. He didn’t talk much to Crystal, which made me wonder if he was trying to hit on me since I was obviously single.
“So, what was growing up in Wyoming like?” Mr. Davidson—
or rather Ron—asked me.
“All right. I lived in a small town, so there wasn’t much to do. My family grew fields of alfalfa, so I learned when I was young to drive tractors and work hard.”
“What do you do now?” he asked.
“I’m a high school teacher,” I said, and I measured the sugar to pour into a bowl.
“W—w—w—w…” Mr. Gladwin paused and tried again, “What do you teach?” He took the spoon from me to stir while I prepared the next ingredient. I smiled and thanked him.
“I used to teach choir, but now I teach photography and cooking classes.”
“I would have guessed science,” Ron said.
“No way. I’m all about fun and creative subjects.” I winked at Crystal.
“That she is,” she said with a laugh.
I poured more ingredients into the bowl. “If the rain stops in the morning, may I walk around the place and take some pictures?
This place would capture some really awesome pics for my kids.”
“Kids?” Ron asked.
“My students,” I clarified.
“So, I take it that you don’t have children of your own?” he asked.
“Uh, no. I’ve never been married. Crystal has two boys, though,” I said, trying to turn the conversation to her. “Do you have a sheet pan or a flat stone?” I asked Bridgett.
With a nod, Bridgett found what I needed, and I waited while Mr. Gladwin stirred the thick dough. I was impressed that his arm hadn’t tired yet. My arms always gave out after a few minutes of stirring. Electricity has wimpified me.
He finished and helped me load the sheep pan. “W—w—what food do you teach the kids to make?”
“In the beginning, we focus on the basics, like boiling noodles and cooking eggs … stuff like that. The second years get into making sauces, roasts, different breads, and such. We don’t get too advanced.”
“So, you must be a really good cook,” said Mr. Gladwin.
“I guess you’ll find out once these cookies finish.” I placed the first batch in the stone notch above the fireplace’s oven.
“So, Crystal, I understand you saw one of our resident ghosts.” Ron leaned back on the counter beside her but kept glancing my way.
Crystal’s shoulders rose to her ears, and her cheeks pinked.
“No need to be shy. Everyone here sees them regularly—well, except Gladwin.” Ron pointed at him.
“So, you’ve never seen them?” Crystal asked Mr. Gladwin.
“I may have seen them when I was younger, but now I wonder if it was just a figment of my imagination,” Gladwin stated.
“You see, Crystal, that’s all it was. You can rest easy tonight,” I said with a smirk.
“I doubt that,” Ron chuckled.
I frowned at him. He wasn’t helping the situation one bit. “There are no such things as ghosts.” I wasn’t sure I believed my words. I’d first arrived thinking how awesome it would be to come across a spirit, but now all I wanted was for them to be a myth.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” Bridgett stood a little taller, eyes boring into me.
“Yes, you’ve said that before.” I tried to smile to lighten the mood. “Did you make the stew, Bridgett?”
“Yes.”
“It was great, but I hope you didn’t slave over it on our account.” I scooped more dough onto another cookie sheet.
“It was leftover,” she replied.
“Good. I would’ve been just as happy eating namen roodles.”
Crystal busted out laughing. “You still call it that?”
I nodded and laughed with her when I realized what I’d said and had to explain, “I get my mords wixed up sometimes,” I said it wrong, just as I always did. “Since I was a kid, I started calling n— ramen noodles, namen roodles. I guess it’s stuck for good. Even now, I have a difficult time calling it by its real name.”
I caught Mr. Gladwin’s slight smile, and his eyes lit up with amusement, but it disappeared just as quickly as his smile came.
“What other words confuse you?” Ron asked.
I scrunched up one side of my cheek in thought. “I can’t think of any off the top of my head. They just pop out of my mouth with no warning.”
We chatted some more, and before we knew it, the cookies were ready. “Since this is your first night in a haunted castle,” Ron said the word “haunted” with heavy sarcasm, “I think we should tell some ghost stories to get us ready for bed.”
“No way—nope—not gonna do it.” Crystal placed her hand on her hip. “I’m already spooked enough as it is. I don’t need any help—thank you very much.”
“Awe, come on. It will be fun,” I said.
“You want ghost stories, Miss Grayson? You’ll get plenty tonight; there’s no need to tell any.” Bridgett’s small, weak voice made her words all the more eerie.
Chills ran up my back, and I pointed at her. “Ooo, I’ll bet you’d be great at telling ghost stories.”
“Don’t tease her, Bridgett. We don’t want these nice young ladies running off before they have a chance to rest,” Ron stated. “Especially since one of them makes such delicious biscuits.” He ate half his cookie in one bite and sighed at its goodness.
“I’m glad you like them,” I said, turning my attention to Mr. Gladwin. He’d been quiet during the last part of our conversation. I’d hoped to hear him speak a little more. His deep voice and stuttering made me smile each time he said something.
Bridgett was the first to take a candle and leave the room. She only left with a simple “Goodnight,” and was gone.
“I suppose you need to see your rooms.” Ron brushed his hands off on the hand towel that hung in the room.
“I’ll s—s—s—see them to th—th—their rooms. Will you lock up before retiring, Ron?”
“Sure thing,” he said, then nodded to Crystal. “I hope you’ll be able to sleep well tonight. And don’t worry about ghosts. Even if they do appear, they really are gentle and can’t hurt a fly.”
“Okay.” Crystal didn’t sound convinced.
“Good night, Jessica. If you need any assistance, just holler.” Ron winked at me, leaving me to wonder what he’d meant by it.