Haunted

He hurried toward her, as if he had heard her cry—being Matt, of course, he had heard it!—and had been preparing to rush to her rescue. Except that she had fled the room upstairs with greater speed than a greyhound. And so she was here, spurting into his arms.



“Clara! What is it?”



She was fifty-five. Twenty years older than Matt, at least. But he was Matt; solid as a rock. A tall man in his prime with a way about him that commanded respect which in turn offered her a feeling of security that allowed her to speak when her mouth was still all but completely contorted.



“I—I—quit!” she gasped out.



“Clara, what on earth?” he asked kindly, holding her at something of a distance from himself and searching out her eyes.



“Let me tell you, that bride was not crazy. There’s a ghost in that room!”



“Oh, Clara, please. We both know the silly stories about this place! We’ve both heard them since we were little kids. But come on, we’ve also worked in this house, both of us, for years and years. Clara, I feel like a broken record here, but believe me—ghosts don’t really exist. People want them to exist sometimes. Penny is dying to have a few authentic ghosts to give the place a greater reputation. Seems like being an historical mas terpiece doesn’t always cut it these days.” He smiled, smoothing back her graying hair.



“There’s a ghost in the Lee room, and it just touched me.” Clara planted her hands on her hips. “How long have you known me? Forever? Haven’t I always agreed with you, saying that it was just silly airheads who felt they had to make up ghost stories? But you have to believe me—there’s something in that room. It threatened me. Matt, it wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t a memory of ghost tales told over and over. It was real. I could see it. Come up and see for yourself!”



Matt sighed deeply. Still, there was concern for her in the depths of his dark eyes. “All right, Clara, let’s go take a look.”



Clara edged behind him, then followed as he left the office and strode with long footsteps through the foyer, up the stairs, and to the Lee room.



Naturally, there was nothing there.



Clara walked over to her broom. “I was standing right here.”



“Clara, maybe you saw the draperies drifting in. The French doors are open.”



Clara indignantly straightened her five-foot-one frame. She could see that Matt felt as if he was living a repeat of a silly performance. He was trying to be patient; he felt like throwing his hands up as if the whole world had now gone insane. “I know the difference between drapes and a ghost!”



Matt ran his fingers through his ink dark hair, shaking his head. “Clara…I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing here at all.”



Clara sniffed. “Matt, it’s gone now. But there was something here! Why can’t you believe me? You should. It wasn’t all that long ago that we rented the room to the Thomases. She came running out of the room in the middle of the night, stark naked, and screaming! All right, I wasn’t here when it happened, but I sure heard all about it.” Clara paused, biting her lip. “Okay, I laughed like hell, I’ll admit, but…Matt, there’s something going on.”



“Clara, Jeannie Thomas herself said later that she’d had a lot to drink that night. Her husband didn’t see or hear a thing, and all it did was cause a big argument on the first night of their marriage. Clara, Jeannie drove me crazy and came here and specifically asked for this room, having heard that it was haunted. Don’t you see? The bride wanted there to be a ghost, and so there was. History can be tragic, Clara. And there was some tragic history associated with the place. But come on, now! You’re a sensible woman. In your heart, you know that you’re just letting your imagination run riot.”



“Matt, I quit.”



“Oh, Clara!”



She knew that he couldn’t afford to lose another maid.



“How about this, Clara. You don’t quit, but you don’t clean this room. How’s that?”



She reflected on his offer. “Who is going to clean it?”



“We’ll let Penny come in here and take care of this room. Penny thinks it’s the greatest thing in the world that the place has a reputation for being haunted.”



“You know, Matt, I can’t help it. I was definitely one of those to scoff at such absurdity, but I can tell you now—this house is haunted!”



“Clara, maybe it’s haunted, and maybe…hm.”



“Maybe what?”



“Maybe Penny is playing tricks, she wants the house to be haunted so badly. Or maybe someone is…I don’t know. Breaking in here. Making things happen.”



“How?” Clara asked incredulously.



“Who knows,” he murmured.



Clara again planted her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing. “Who the hell would break in here? Who would have the balls—since it’s your place—the town sheriff?”



“I don’t know. But since you think there was someone in here, I intend to find out.”



Clara shook her head. “We’re the ones who have been lying to ourselves, Matt. The whole darned house may be haunted, but this room…this room is menacing!”



“Ghosts don’t menace people, Clara.”



She sniffed. “You don’t believe in ghosts, so how do you know what they do?”



“Clara, I don’t believe in ghosts, but from everything I’ve seen and read, I’ve never heard of a ghost actually hurting anyone.”



Clara shook her head again, appearing to be the one wise beyond all earthly knowledge. “Well, Mr. Matt, I’ll have you know, that isn’t true at all! Haven’t you ever heard of the Bell Witch in Tennessee? They say that even old Andrew Jackson was afraid of her, that she pulled people’s hair and threw the children around and even caused the death of the master of the house. You refuse to accept anything that isn’t cut-and-dried, and you’re blind to things going on in your own house!”



Matt leaned against the door frame, smiling. “Clara, once again, I believe that people can make things real with their imaginations.”



“You think old Andy Jackson was an imaginative guy?”



“You’d have to show me written proof that Andrew Jackson was afraid of a ghost. And I don’t mean any hearsay on a Discovery program or even in a book of ghost stories.”



Clara pointed a finger at him. “You’d better do something, before the stories about this house become so real that no one will pay for the tours. You can’t keep this place up on a sheriff’s salary alone.”



“Thank you, Clara. I’ll take that under advisement. But then again, you know, Penny is certain that a documented haunting would make us as rich as Midas.”



Clara was startled when Matt frowned suddenly and walked over to her. “What happened to your face?”



“To my face?” Clara frowned as well, and walked over to the mirror. Her cheek was red and mottled, as if she’d been slapped, and slapped hard.



She turned and stared at him. “Ghosts don’t menace people, huh?”



“Clara,” Matt said. “Think about it! You must have run into something in your hurry to get out of the room!”



Clara eyed him sharply and shook her head. “Matt, the stories have circulated for years. People have sworn that they’ve seen soldiers in the downstairs rooms. They’ve seen a lady in white, floating down the stairway. Ghosts that fit in with history. It’s only been in recent years, since your grandfather died, that things have gotten really serious. Remember how Randy Gustav quit after staying a night in the Lee Room? He wouldn’t even explain what happened to you. It’s only in the last few years that…that the ghosts kind of threaten to get violent.”



“There are no such things as ghosts.”



“Oh, yeah? One just gave me a bruise!”



With that, Clara indignantly walked out on him, calling back over her shoulder, “Matt, you’re a hell of a man. That’s why I’m staying. Believe it or don’t, but you’d better do something about that particular ghost—that doesn’t exist in your mind.”



That evening, having returned home very late from work, Matt sat at the desk in his suite in the main house, going through correspondence.



There was a tap at his door.



“Come in.”



Penny stuck her head in. “Am I bothering you, Matt?”



“Not at all.”



She walked in and sat on the corner of his desk. “Matt, you have to do something over this latest episode with Clara.”



“Oh?” He leaned back in his chair.



“Clara was hurt!”



“Penny, please. I’m sorry, I think the world of Clara, we’re friends from way back, and I gave her the rest of the day off with pay. She had to have run into something.”



Penny shook her head.



He leaned forward suddenly, abruptly. “Penny, you wouldn’t be playing some kind of game up there, determined to convince the rest of the world, if not me, that the place is haunted?”



She gaped at him in such affront that he was immediately sorry.



“Matt, I would never—”



“But maybe someone would.”



“Maybe,” Penny agreed grudgingly. She wagged a finger at him. “You know, you are far too trusting at times. Too many people could have access to this place.”



“Penny, I’m not too trusting. We’re a fairly small town.”



Penny shook her head decisively. “You’re right, of course. But you’ve got to remember that even in our small town we have had a few pretty grisly murders. Why can’t you just accept the fact that something strange is going on?”



“Penny, you’ve wanted nothing more than a real ghost for years.”



Penny shook her head, suddenly troubled. “Ghosts…that cause a cold spot, or breeze by, or…I don’t think this is a good ghost,” she murmured.