Perhaps he was a nice man, with a nice son and a nice dog. But he was staying inherhome, tearing down the history ofherlife. And Carolina wasn’t about to just let some man ruin everything her parents had worked so hard to build. Not without a fight.
Chapter Four
It was difficult forsleep and Joseph to find one another in the new house. Not that he was very good when it came to sleeping anywhere else for that matter, but there was something about the century old estate that kept him up at night. Sleep had evaded him for months now, but at Jacaranda Manor, rest was nearly impossible. Whether it was the sound of something scurrying in the attic, the whoosh of water through the new pipes in the walls, or simply a warm autumn breeze creaking through the ancient oaks outside, for Joseph, there was no peace to be had.
Plus, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
With the first floor now almost completely gutted and a small bathroom fully remodeled just off the kitchen at the back of the house, Jacaranda Manor was beginning to come together a little more each day. However, whenever he would venture to the dark corners of the second floor of the home, he felt the air begin to change. The temperature dropped, which was unusual as heat usually rose in second floor homes, and Florida washot. Joseph only had a portable air conditioner for now in the front room for him and River to use as installing the central air conditioning system was going to come at a serious cost. The fact that the second floor of the house was actually cooler than the first completely baffled him.
The most disturbing thing about the second floor though was the dark corners. There was considerably more junk and antique furnishings on the second floor of Jacaranda Manor than on the first, creating uniquely terrifying visuals if he allowed to let his mind wander. Whomever had cleared out the house some eighty years ago didn’t bother to remove much from the estate past the first floor, and as a result, all five of the upstairs rooms were filled with hulking bed frames, standing mirrors shrouded in dusty sheets, dress forms and a host of other spooky shapes designed to make him jump. Unlike most other derelict homes, Jacaranda Manor had managed to remain a time capsule, and to his surprise, was in far better shape than he had anticipated. More than one time Joseph thought he saw something move from the corner of his eye as he toured from room to room. Still, the thought that the manor had managed to go for so long without appearing to have been looted or lived in by squatters continued to press at the back of his mind.
Mostly, it was the memory of that voice in his ear that sent chills of terror up and down his spine. That clear, distinct, and nearly comical “boo” followed by a puff of cold air that he would never, ever be able to forget. He hadn’t imagined it. Joseph Moore may have been many things: a recluse, sad, lonely. But he wasn’t the kind of person to imagine things or hear voices.
Part of him wished that the voice was Rachel, and that she had followed them to the house she had loved so dearly. Part of him wished that she was still with them, watching over them in her own way. But the voice didn’t sound like Rachel. It didn’t feel like Rachel. In truth, Joseph hoped that his wife was at peace, wherever it was that souls go. He didn’t want her to see what he was becoming.
Still, the memory of his first time visiting Jacaranda Manor with River continued to edge its way through the back of his mind, itching to be remembered again and again and again. A lady in the window, his son had said. Joseph shook away the thought. Joseph Moore knew that the only thing that really haunted him was guilt.
***
“River, what are youdoing?”
It was a Saturday morning, and as usual, Joseph was getting ready to take his son over to his in-laws for the day while he worked on renovations. Joseph didn’t like to have any heavy lifting going on in the home while River was there, so his working hours were limited to whenever River was away at school or with family. It seemed too dangerous to have him around so much construction. Itwastoo dangerous. And now, despite all of his safety precautions, Joseph’s precious boy was tipped precariously up on his toes on top of a rickety chair as he reached for the old clock on the fireplace mantel.
“Bud, you could fall and hurt yourself!” he said, lowering the little boy from the chair. “What were you doing?”
River bit his lower lip and looked up at him through his mass of curls. Joseph realized it had probably been six months since his son had had a haircut. Rachel had always taken care of those things.
“I was trying to call the lady,” River said, glancing up at the clock again.
“What lady?” Joseph said. As the words fell from his lips, he already knew what answer his young son would give.Thelady.
“I’m not supposed to tell,” River said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Theghostlady?” he said, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.
His son nodded.
