Читать книгу Haunting at Remington House - Laura V. Keegan - Страница 17

Tom wandered about the house pulling curtains, opening shutters. The kitten was awake and meowed to go out. “Do you really want out in this weather, little fellow? Well, okay. But stay out of the tree. Don’t go wandering off and forget where you live either.” Tom carried the cat to the kitchen. “I’ll leave this door open a crack so you can come get back in. With no hesitation, the cat bounded out the door. Tom made a pot of strong coffee, waited impatiently for it to finish, then poured himself a mug to take upstairs.

As the sun broke through the clouds, Tom felt rejuvenated. He decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in his bedroom unpacking his personal belongings. For several hours he unpacked his clothes and arranged the few books he’d packed, adding them to the collection in the bookcases. The kitten found its way back into the house and up into Tom’s bedroom. He curled up into a tiny ball in front of the fireplace. “Looks like this is going to be your bedroom, too. Works for me.”

When Tom was done unpacking, he went downstairs. Looking out the picture window, he saw it was raining again. Half a mile out a small boat tossed on the turbulent swells. It was late afternoon; the setting sun cast long shadows of the cliffs onto the sandy beach. In the distance an ocean liner sailed toward the eastern horizon, the fishing boat had turned, probably headed to the harbor ten miles north.

Tom added wood to the fireplaces in the downstairs rooms, glad for the extra warmth. The aging furnace failed to adequately heat the many rooms in the house. He looked forward to a light dinner and a good book in front of the fire tonight. His mood of desperation had lifted. The house felt warm and comfortable. A soothing, light rain gently pattered against the windows. He read for a few hours. A well-written mystery kept his mind occupied and free from any kind of reality. A sense of contentment and of being home settled over Tom.

At eleven, Tom took a sleeping pill and went to bed. He lay in bed for what seemed like hours waiting for the pill to work and carry him into dreamless oblivion. As he finally started to drift off, he heard sounds from the attic. Someone walked back and forth on the floor above him. He tried to rouse himself, but the pill kicked in. He slept a dreamless, drug-induced sleep, not waking until seven.

Tom got up, dressed and had a light breakfast. As he sipped his second cup of strong coffee, he tried to remember—with no luck—what had been so disturbing to him as he drifted into sleep last night. He poured another cup of coffee and carried it to the terrace. Tom rejoiced in the beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, the air was crisp and smelled salty and clean, birds sang as the day renewed itself. He, too, felt vibrant and refreshed for a change; he was happy to be alive.

Bundling up in an old fisherman sweater someone had left on the back hook, he headed for the beach. The kitten bounced after him and, although the kitten refused to go in the ocean, he stayed on the beach scampering about, chasing after bits of leaves blowing in the breeze. Tom walked along the sand gathering up shells and stuffing them into his pockets. Bending over, he picked up a handful of flat stones and threw them, watching them skip across the water’s surface. Up the beach he saw two children playing tag with the waves. Maybe it was one of them he’d seen last night playing in the tide. The boys chased the huge waves as they rolled in and out. Even from this distance Tom could hear their delightful laughter. When they spotted him, he waved and yelled, “Good morning.” They ran down the beach toward him.

“Hey, mister, are you the guy who just moved into the house up there?” The younger of the two boys yelled.

“Sure am. I’m Tom Gardner,” he hollered back.

The youngest boy ran up to Tom, his hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jimmy Harrison, and this is my brother, Billy.” Jimmy pointed to the older boy who stood some feet back. “Hey, is that your cat?” Jimmy asked, a big grin on his face. “I love cats, but Mother won’t let me have one. She says they’re too hairy and messy. She hates anything messy—that’s for sure. Can I pet him?” Tom nodded, and Jimmy got down on his knees and slowly put his hand out toward the kitten. “What’s his name?”

“That’s a good question. I haven’t named him yet. Just found him yesterday. Rescued him from up in a tree. Any suggestions?”

Jimmy’s brother, who hadn’t spoken a word, walked over and pulled Jimmy up by his arm. “Come on. We have to get home. Now! Mother will wonder where we are.”

“No she won’t. She told us to stay out of her way today. She’s busy with house cleaning. I’m staying here with Mr. Gardner and the kitten. You go home if you want,” he snapped, pulling free from his brother’s grasp.

“I’m gonna tell Mother you’re talking to a stranger. You know what she’ll do to you for that,” Billy said as he turned and began walking up the beach. “Are you coming or not?” he yelled over his shoulder.

“You’re a pain in the neck, Billy. Besides, Mr. Gardner isn’t a stranger—he’s our neighbor. Go ahead and tell on me. See if I care!” he yelled at his brother. Jimmy, his face red with anger and embarrassment, said to Tom, “Don’t mind Billy. He’s always like that, always trying to get me in hot water.”

“I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” Tom said

“Don’t worry. I won’t. Hey, did you really mean I could help you name your cat?” he asked grinning.

Tom knelt down on the sand beside the boy. “Sure did. Any ideas?”

“Hmm. Let me think a minute. What about Tiger? No. I don’t like that. He doesn’t look anything like a tiger.”

Tom looked away so Jimmy couldn’t see him smiling. He didn‘t want him to think he was laughing at him, but Jimmy was taking the naming so seriously he actually looked distressed.

Jimmy snapped his fingers and grinned. “I know! Wiggins. I had a friend named Bobby Wiggins. He moved away. What do you think?” he asked, very seriously.

“Wiggins! I like it!” Tom scooped the kitten up. Wiggins squirmed to get away. Tom put him down on the sand. Jimmy found a length of fishing line laying on the beach and began playing with the cat, who ran in circles trying to catch the elusive end. Tom watched, amused.

Jimmy was a small boy with a slight build. Tom guessed he was maybe eight or nine years old. His complexion was fair and dotted with pale, reddish- brown freckles. His unruly, red hair fell across his forehead into his hazel eyes. His face had an impish quality, especially when he grinned like he was doing now as he played with the kitten.

“Tom Gardner?” a man shouted from down the beach. “I’m Dick Groden from the phone company. I’m here to check your phone lines.”

“I’ll be right there,” Tom yelled. “Jimmy, I need to go. See you around, kid!”

Jimmy followed, asking, “Can I come with you? I’ve never been in the Lindemans’ house. They were old and sick, and Mother wouldn’t let us bother them. I promise I won’t get in the way. Please?”

“What about your mom, Jimmy? I don’t want to worry her. And I don’t want you to get into trouble. Why don’t you go and ask. I’ll wait here for you.”

Dick was walking toward Tom. Tom gestured to Jimmy running down the beach. “I’m waiting for the boy to come back. Give me a minute?”

“Sure,” Dick said, extending his hand to Tom. “Good to meet you. Glad someone finally bought the Lindeman house. Nice place.” Dick shook Tom’s hand.

In a few minutes, Jimmy came running down to the beach from the Harrison house. “Mother said I couldn’t go into your house. She says you might be some pervert or something. She says I can’t go to your house until she has been ‘properly introduced’. Boy oh boy, mothers are a real pain sometimes! Could you come and meet her, do you think?”

Dick laughed. “I’m not in any hurry to get into the house. I need to do some checks on the connection box down the road. I’ll go ahead and get started. Probably take me half an hour anyway. I’ll be back in a while. Jimmy! How you doin', kid?”

“Hey, Dick! Mr. Gardner let me name his kitten. Cool, huh? I'm gonna take Mr. Gardner to meet my mother. See you later.” Jimmy grabbed Tom’s sleeve and gently tugged. “Come on. Let’s get this over with! Mothers!”

The Harrison’s house was a large New England Colonial; three stories high—its floor plan at least twice the size of Tom’s house. “Come on this way, Mr. Gardner. We better go around to the back door. Mother’s getting the house all cleaned up for Thanksgiving, and if I track any dirt in she’ll have my head,” he stated matter of factly.

As Tom was led through the rear door, he saw the back of a woman disappearing through another doorway. She turned around when she heard Jimmy and Tom.

“Oh, Jimmy! For heaven’s sake. What is it now?” Her eyes met Tom’s. “Oh!”

“Sorry to intrude. Forgive me for barging in unannounced,” Tom said, trying to keep his tone light and hide his embarrassment at the obvious intrusion.

“Mother, this is Mr. Gardner. He moved in the house next door. This is my mother, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Oh! Goodness! How rude I must seem.” She smiled, fluffing her stylishly coiffed, blonde hair. “Gardner? Are you any relation to Robert Gardner, from Jamestown, by chance?” she asked, an expectant note in her voice.

“Robert was my father. He’s been dead for many years, though.”

“Yes, I remember. My dad knew him. We were terribly sad to hear about his death. A hunting accident wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” Tom glanced around the room. Changing the subject he said, “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Harrison. I apologize for just dropping in, I thought Jimmy . . . ”

Vivian interrupted, her green eyes sparkling, “On the contrary, Mr. Gardner, I insisted that Jimmy bring you. I just didn’t realize he was going to bring you right away.” She laughed. “I’m so glad you came. Don’t give it a second thought. And please, call me Vivian. Would you care to come into the drawing room, and I’ll get you something to drink? Maybe a cup of tea . . . or coffee?”

“Thanks, but I have to get back. Dick Groden from the phone company's waiting. Would you care if Jimmy came back with me? I could use the company.”

Vivian raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure you want him underfoot? He can be such a nuisance sometimes.”

“Mother!” Jimmy smiled sheepishly, his cheeks and ears blushing crimson.

“I’m certain,” Tom said, winking at Jimmy.

“Well—all right. At least that will keep him busy—I have so much to do here. If he doesn’t behave, send him home.” She reached out, gently putting her hand on Tom’s arm. “Are you sure you can’t stay a while?” She smiled warmly. “We could get to know each other a little. It can be so isolating here. Perhaps a glass of sherry before you go?”

“Another time. It was a pleasure meeting you. And don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Jimmy,” Tom said, heading toward the back door. “Come on Jimmy.”

“Jimmy, you be on your best behavior, do you hear? And be sure to get Mr. Gardner’s phone number so I can call and invite him for drinks. Do you hear me?” she shouted as they neared the cliff steps.

“Yes, Mother,” Jimmy called over his shoulder.

As they walked down the beach, Tom saw that Joe was back and was talking with Dick. As soon as he saw them, Joe walked down the beach to meet them. “Well, well, if it isn’t little Jimmy Harrison.” Tom didn’t care for Joe’s tone of voice and shot him a disapproving look.

Jimmy ran over to Wiggins sunbathing on a rock. Lifting him up in his arms, Jimmy started climbing up the cliff steps toward the house. Tom lagged behind, waited until Jimmy was halfway up the stairs, then he said to Joe, “I know you don’t like the Harrisons, but Jimmy’s a great kid. I don’t want you to hold his family against him. All right?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders. “You’re right. But if his mother finds out he’s here, she’ll tan his hide.”

“He’s here with her permission, Joe. All is well.”

After showing Dick where the phones were inside the house, Tom looked for Jimmy. He found him playing on the study floor with the kitten.

"Do you live here by yourself?” Jimmy asked Tom.

“Yeah, just me. And now Wiggins.”

Jimmy was trying to tie his shoelace while Wiggins chewed on it. “Aren’t you afraid here all alone?” he asked.

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Tom asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Well, I don’t know for sure. But I’d be scared in a house this big if I was all by myself.”

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of this ‘scary’ old house. You’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of. Just a lot of rooms.” They spent the rest of the morning exploring. Tom was glad to get to go through the house again. It was a chance to find all the extra closets and hidden stairs that he hadn’t yet had time to find.

When Jimmy left to go home for lunch, Tom wrote down both the house and his cell phone numbers for Jimmy to give to his mom. Tom walked down the beach stairs and watched Jimmy until he reached the stairs to his own house. Wiggins followed Jimmy about half way up the beach, then scampered back to Tom. He knew where his home was, no doubt about that.