Chapter Thirty-One

Bitsy

I felt like I was breaking the rules as we moved past the last of the bare peach trees and started to approach the corner of the farm where I had never been allowed to visit. It was that feeling that I used to get when I would climb into the back of a pickup during high school and go for a milkshake after school rather than heading right home. There was a flutter of nervousness in my belly, but also a flicker of excitement. Of course, back then the worst that could be waiting for me was Granddaddy glaring at me over his evening reading of the Holler Holler. Now I felt like if something went wrong it was going to have much more grave consequences.

I shuddered.

Not the best choice of words.

I stayed close to Roman as we went, trying to convince myself that it was because it was just good common sense that if we were going to be walking through the dark we needed to stick together so that we could stay safer from any obstacles in our path or wild animals, and not because I hoped that if there were any ghosts around they would see Roman and be intimidated by him. We held our flashlights out in front of us as we walked, but I pulled mine further to the side each time the lights got close to one another. Finally, Roman looked down at me.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he asked.

“I thought that ghost hunters weren’t supposed to let their beams cross.”

He shook his head at me and laughed.

“That’s Ghostbusters, not ghost hunters. And proton packs, not flashlights. Seriously, have you never seen a movie?”

I glared up at him.

“Again. How old are you?”

We continued on toward the house, me letting our flashlight beams cross and play indiscriminately, until it finally came into view, dark and foreboding against the sky. I stopped still, feeling like I couldn’t get any closer. I didn’t understand how such a tiny house could look so terrifying. Roman reached down between us and I felt his hand wrap around mine. The squeeze of his grip made me feel more confident and I let him guide me the rest of the way toward the house.

“Look,” he whispered when we were within a few feet of the front porch.

He lifted his flashlight so the beam touched the front door and I gasped.

“It’s open,” I said.

Roman nodded.

“Let’s go find out who – or what – opened it.”

I fell into step behind him out of sheer terror. I didn’t want to go inside the house, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to be left standing by myself out in the open outside of the house. Besides, my curiosity was starting to take over and part of me was eager to find out just what happened in that house that was causing me to receive letters, apparently from beyond the grave.

Roman stepped up to the door and reached for it. Before his hand could touch the doorknob, however, the door swung shut, slamming in our faces. I cried out, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. Roman looked at me and pressed a finger over his lips to quiet me,

“Sorry,” I whispered.

He reached for the doorknob again, but it wouldn’t budge. He shook the knob and pressed against the door, but it stayed firmly shut.

“It’s locked,” he said. “Let’s try this way.”

We made our way across the shallow porch and stepped down off of the ragged side. Roman shined his light again, this time illuminating the cellar door.

“I don’t know if that’s safe,” I said. “That house hadn’t had anyone in it in decades. We have no idea if the structure has any integrity left.”

Or what might have moved into the cellar when Steven McAllister checked out.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Roman said.

I nodded reluctantly and we walked toward the cellar door. He leaned down and moved the ancient latch out of the way, then grabbed the handle. The door opened easily beneath his hand, almost too easily, and a dusty, stale smell rose up toward us. We each took deep breaths and started down into the cellar. Our lights barely penetrated the darkness, but through the hazy beams I could see shelves lining the walls, bowing with age, but still holding up cans and jars of food. The sight sent a chill through me and I shuddered. There was something so eerie about seeing that food still sitting there, unopened, caught forever in the moment of potential from when it was placed there with every intention of being eaten.

I started to express this to Roman, but he held up a hand.

“Shhh,” he said. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I asked.

“Listen.” We both listened for a few seconds and he pointed up toward the ceiling. “That. Do you hear it? That music?”

I strained for the sound and heard delicate music coming toward us from some unseen room of the house as though someone had opened a music box. Roman looked at me, his eyebrows raised, and then started toward the door that led upstairs.

“Roman!” I hissed, but he didn’t stop.

I hurried to catch up with him, pressing against his back as he climbed the stairs and reached the door that would lead into the kitchen. As he opened it I heard a gasp and saw a flash of light move across the dark expanse ahead of us. Roman stepped into the room and I followed him.

“What was that?” he asked. He looked around, raising his voice. “Who are you? If you’re here, give us a sign.”

As soon as he said those words, I heard several footsteps in the room behind me. I squeezed my eyes closed, not wanting to turn around but knowing that I had to. I couldn’t see anything in the room and Roman’s hand touched my back, guiding me forward. We walked together across the kitchen and into the room I soon realized was the living room. Ahead of us I saw a sofa.

“Look,” I whispered. “There’s the sofa where they found Steven McAllister.”

Roman narrowed his eyes as if trying to see better in the darkness, then lifted his flashlight, letting the beam fall onto the sofa where it illuminated a freshly carved jack o’ lantern. I gasped, dropping my flashlight as I stumbled backwards. Right before my eyes, the jack o’ lantern suddenly illuminated, its ghastly features glowing in the darkness of the living room.

I screamed with all of the breath inside of me and took off running. Not even recognizing if Roman was behind me, I ran through the living room, across the kitchen, down the stairs, through the cellar, and back out into the night. Roman soon fell into step behind me and we ran together across the grounds, weaving through the orchard and along the pumpkin patch until we were back in my mother’s house. Roman slammed the door and locked it, then turned to me.

Adrenaline coursed through me and I was suddenly aware of every inch of my body. My chest heaved and I felt like I could barely get any breath into my lungs. I flung myself forward, wrapping my arms around Roman’s neck and crushing my breasts against his chest as my mouth covered his. Roman turned me around, pressing me back against the door like he had in the elevator at the hotel, but this time the gesture felt more possessive than dominating, and I moaned into his mouth as our kiss deepened. My hands ran across Roman’s waist and I grabbed onto his shirts, tearing the layers off of him until I could see his bare chest and belly again.

Our mouths met again and we kissed passionately as we moved away from the door and into the living room, stumbling together toward the sofa. Roman’s hands came to the front of my pants and I felt him release the button. That movement brought sudden reality into my mind. I pulled back from him.

“I can’t,” I said breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked.

“I just can’t.”

He nodded, looking resigned, but understanding.

“I know,” he said.

I buttoned my pants and straightened my shirt, walking up to Roman to run my hands over his chest one more time. I sighed, letting my hands fall reluctantly away from his skin.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asked. “At least until the sun comes up?”

The thought of trying to trust myself throughout the night with Roman was frightening, but the idea of having to walk out of the house and cross the dark property to Granddaddy’s house was paralyzing, so I nodded.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Of course,” Roman said. “I’d feel better knowing you were here with me anyway. There’s only a bed in one of the bedrooms, so you take it. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I looked at him imploringly.

“Actually,” I said, “would you mind if we shared the bed. All clothes on, of course. Just sleeping.”

Roman smiled at the qualifications, but nodded.

“That works, too.”

We went into the bedroom and kicked off our shoes. It felt strange slipping beneath the covers in all of our clothing, but I knew if I removed so much as a sock, there would be no way that I would be able to control myself. I rested my head on the pillow and looked at Roman for a few long seconds, not really knowing what I was thinking. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose, and I smiled, letting my eyes drift closed.