“Carolina, this is beautiful,” he said, wanting to touch the impasto strokes on the canvas, but knowing better. “These are still in immaculate condition.”
“Yes, well, I have a suspicion that my presence here may have helped to preserve them,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Joseph shuddered at the chill in the room. She was right. The attic was downright frigid. In fact, the house was always colder wherever Carolina roamed.
“May I look at all of them?” he asked.
“Please do,” she said. “Sell them all for all I care.”
One-by-one, Joseph uncovered each of Carolina’s paintings to reveal turn-of-the-century beach scenes, the silhouette of the Castillo de San Marco at night, and what appeared to be old downtown St. Augustine. Joseph didn’t know much about art, but to his eye, the paintings seemed to be pretty good, and Carolina had a skillful hand.
“If anything, I’m sure they’ll be of historical value,” he said, finally coming upon a painting of Jacaranda Manor. “I wouldn't feel right taking the money though. Don’t you think it should go to your ancestors?”
“What ancestors?” she scoffed. “My sisters moved away and forgot about me. Besides, you purchased Jacaranda Manor and everything in it fair and square. These are yours.”
Joseph paused for a moment and looked over at Carolina again. He imagined her, alive and radiant, painting out in a field or right there in the studio.
“Did you ever display these anywhere when you were still... I mean, before you got sick?”
“Heavens, no,” she said, crossing her arms. “Mother didn’t think it was appropriate. Though she and father supported our artistic endeavors, they thought of them as more of a hobby. My parents wanted their daughters to focus more on marriage and motherhood.”
“But what about Paris?” he asked. “I thought you were going to go?”
Carolina shook her head.
“I would have had to run away like Leonora. I probably would have done it too if I’d had the chance.”
Joseph looked back at the collection of artwork and made a quick calculation in his mind. Even if the paintings were purchased for a few hundred dollars each for pure historical value, the proceeds could help pay to repair the roof at the very least. It wasn’t entirely a bad idea.
“Okay. If I have your blessing, I’ll take them first thing on Monday and try to speak to someone. There’s likely an art dealer or historian of some kind downtown.”
“Very good,” Carolina nodded.
Joseph ran his thumb and forefinger along his jawline and noted that he was probably in need of a shave. Probably a haircut too. Then a thought occurred to him.
“Would you want to come along?”
Carolina raised a hand to her chest.
“You mean, leave Jacaranda Manor?”
Joseph nodded.
“No, I couldn’t possibly,” she said, her silhouette beginning to fade. “I can’t leave.”
“How do you know you can’t leave?” Joseph asked. “Have you ever tried?”
Carolina fell quiet as her form flickered like a candle in the wind.
“I’m afraid to,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.
Joseph felt his chest tighten as he realized that something was very wrong with his ghostly housemate. He had upset her somehow.
“Why?” he asked, her form now dissolved to little more than a shadow.
“Because,” she said, as her shape completely dissipated right before his eyes. “There’s something waiting for me in the woods.”
***
