Chapter 7
Under the cover of darkness, Clara and James approached the old house with caution. The thrill of sneaking in brought a sense of excitement reminiscent of childhood adventures. Clara felt like things were a little better this time around. She had a partner, and she knew the layout of the house a little better.
James had spent the day doing what he called, recon. He held her hand, leading her around the back of the house. The door she used to escape the first night was locked. He pointed to a window, careful not to make any noise.
She nodded, understanding what he was saying. He slowly raised the window. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had never stepped outside the lines. Clara reminded herself the house was empty. She wasn”t stealing anything. It wasn”t really a crime.
James gestured for her to step into his hands that were intertwined, creating a step. With her heart in her throat, she put one foot in his hands and allowed him to boost her up. She went through the window, unceremoniously falling to the floor inside. She was so glad he didn”t get the chance to see her sprawl on the floor.
She quickly jumped up and went to the door to let him in.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Fine.”
“I heard a thud.”
“I”m fine. Come one. This is freaking me out. The sooner we find what we”re looking for, the sooner we can get out of here.”
He took her hand and led her back to the library where he had happened upon her a couple of nights ago. They each had flashlights, keeping the beam aimed at the floor.
“There,” Clara whispered, pointing to the boxes that had intrigued her the first time.
“I”ll start on this pile. You look through those.”
She was nervous, and anxious to get out of the house. The thrill of the mission had dissipated and now she just wanted to go home. But she was determined to solve the mystery. They searched through the records and documents, but their efforts yielded little. Determined to find more information, they decided to expand their search through the old house. Every corner seemed to whisper secrets from the past.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” she whispered.
“No. At least, I didn”t before.”
“Me too. This is creepy.”
“We”re okay,” James assured her. “We”ll be fine. No one is watching this place. We”re just being paranoid.”
“Paranoid keeps us out of jail.”
“Just breathe, Clara. Let”s keep going.”
They ventured through the house, the air growing chillier the further they pushed on. After a while, they found themselves at a staircase leading up to the house”s attic. James glanced back at Clara, his forehead furrowed, “Should we go up?”
Clara swallowed hard, looking up the old wooden stairs. The darkness seemed to consume them. “Yeah,” she replied with a nervous nod. “Let”s do it.”
With every creak of the aged wood beneath their feet, Clara became more tense, clutching tightly to James” hand. Once they reached the top of the stairs, they found themselves in a sprawling attic, filled with dusty furniture, forgotten paintings, and countless boxes. The air was heavy with a musty smell.
James shone his flashlight around the room, its beam catching on the corners of crates and glinting off the glass of picture frames. Clara moved to one side, her own flashlight sweeping over a cluster of trunks.
“These look like they haven”t been touched in years,” she murmured.
James joined her, crouching down to examine the locks on the trunks. “Looks like we”ll need a key.”
“Where are we going to find a key?” she asked, disheartened.
“Maybe a hammer?” he suggested.
“You want to smash the lock?”
“Do you want to get in the trunks?”
She grimaced. “That feels wrong. Why don”t we do a little more snooping? If we don”t find anything, we”ll come back. Then you can smash away.”
“Deal,” he nodded.
They ventured back down the stairs, quietly exploring the massive house. Their exploration led them to what appeared to be Victoria”s bedroom. It was the only room in the house that looked like it had been lived in at some point in the last twenty years.
As they entered, Clara felt a sense of reverence. The room held a timeless quality, frozen in time. It was a combination of antique and eighties furnishings. Amidst the antique furniture and faded wallpaper, Clara”s eyes fell upon a dusty nightstand. If she were someone who journaled, she would do it at night when she was lying in bed. That meant she would keep it in the nightstand for easy access and relative privacy.
She walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. “Bingo,” she whispered.
“What”d you find?” James asked.
“Journal,” she whispered gleefully.
“Good. We”ll take it. I”m going to check out the adjoining room. Keep checking here.”
Clara nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings. After examining the journal”s exterior, she carefully opened it, revealing pages filled with neat handwriting, the ink faded with age. She flipped through the pages, catching bits and pieces about Victoria”s life. She couldn”t wait to get it home and dig into the contents.
She dug through the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, hoping to find more journals or a clue.
Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of something small and she pulled out a key–a tiny, ornate key. Her heart pounded in her chest as she examined it. It was old, almost rusty, but it held an intricate design.
“James,” she whispered, “I found a key!”
He rushed back into the room, excitement sparking in his eyes. “You”re thinking what I”m thinking?”
Clara nodded, clutching the key tightly in her hand. They hurried back up to the attic, their earlier dread replaced with anticipation and curiosity. She approached one of the trunks, knelt, and inserted the key into the lock. It opened.
“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed.
Together, they opened the lid. Unfortunately, it was filled with clothes. A wedding gown, and what looked to be an infant”s christening gown.
“Victorian,” James murmured, lifting up the bridal veil gently. His finger traced the ornate lacework admiringly. “These must”ve been her most precious possessions.”
Clara nodded, her fingers brushing the delicate fabric of the christening gown. “I wonder if there”s something more.”
“The diary might tell us more,” James suggested after a moment.
They decided to leave the trunks as they found them and returned to exploring the rest of the house. Clara kept the diary close, anxious to read it.
“We should probably go,” James said. “We”ve got the journal. We”ll read it and see if we learn anything.”
“Sounds good to me. I”m ready to get out of here.”
They made their way back to the door, locking it behind them before sneaking back to her house.
“That was wild,” James laughed.
“I don”t know how I”m going to go to sleep after that,” Clara shook her head. “I have such an adrenaline rush going.”
“You”re going to dig into that journal, aren”t you?”
“Probably not. I should go to bed.”
“But you won”t,” he grinned.
“Maybe just a few pages,” she said with a laugh. “But I promise I won”t read too much without you.”
“I”ll leave you to it,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Goodnight.”
She walked him to the door.
James stopped. “Would you like to meet my grandfather?”
“What?”
“Come with me. Meet my grandfather. We can tell him what we”ve found so far.”
Surprised by the invitation, Clara hesitated. Meeting James”s family felt like a significant step. It terrified her to take such a significant step, but she wanted to do it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Sure,” she replied with a smile. “I”d like that.”
“Are you able to get a couple of days off?” he asked. “It”s about five hours one way.”
“I have a lot of vacation pay stacked up,” she nodded. “I”ll talk to my boss and see what she can swing. I”m sure it won”t be an issue.”
“Let me know. I think he”ll be very happy to meet you.”
He walked out the door. As James left, Clara closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a minute, still clutching the journal tightly. Her heart fluttered at the thought of meeting James”s grandfather, of being introduced to his only family. It was a big step and told her she must be special if he was willing to introduce her to his grandfather.
All of that was exciting, but right now, she wanted to crack open that journal.
After all, what could a few pages hurt?