Page 7 of The Ghost of Ellwood
It’d have to be a damn big mouse to cause such a loud thump, though.
When nothing else happened, I shook my head and continued my hunt for a cup. I was turning into one of those paranoid people from the movies who jumped at every noise. Once found, I rinsed out the cup in the sink before pouring my coffee. I needed to go into town later for groceries, but I had brought sugar from my old place and stirred some into the cup.
The morning was then spent unpacking more boxes, starting with the kitchen. I then tackled the ones in my bedroom, hanging up clothes in the closet and tossing folded ones into drawers. I hadn’t chosen a room for my office yet, and so I took a break from organizing to look into the other rooms.
The manor had six bedrooms, and there was also a larger room on the first floor that had clearly been used as a library in the past. Built-in shelves lined the walls and the massive windows on one side of the room lit the place up. I glided my fingers over the empty shelves, imagining them overflowing with all types of books.
One day I’d fill the entire library.
I hadn’t been too impressed by the selection of upstairs bedrooms—at least not for my office. Outside of the library, I followed a narrow corridor. I could reach out both arms and easily touch the walls. At the end of the hall, I turned into the last room and stopped in the doorway. It was perfect. There were four windows total, and the view of the back yard was spectacular. Hills rolled in the distance, and I could see the pond.
With a decision made, I tracked down the boxes for my office and brought them into the room. The harder part would be my desk, but I could manage if I took my time. Once getting the bulky thing into the room, I plopped down in the chair in the corner.
That’s when my eyes zeroed in on a small table beside the window.
A lot of furniture had been left in the house. I’d probably sell most of it, but there were some pieces I’d keep. The antique table was about three feet high and had a single drawer, which I opened. I found nothing but a thick coating of dust and what felt like a dead beetle.
But then my fingers touched something.
A small space was between the bottom of the drawer and the inside wall. I’d read about false drawers before and proceeded to add a slight pressure. There was a soft click before the drawer lifted.
Inside was a leather-bound book. Dust covered it from top to bottom, and the spine was old and worn. I picked it up and blew on the front, coughing as the dust flew into my face. The cover had no text, and I opened to the front page.
A name was written in black ink:Theo.
The discolored pages had that old smell to them, and as I turned the page, my heart gave an excited jolt. It was a journal.
August 2nd, 1912
The day is sweltering. Father says that means we’ll have a cold winter. I can only hope this is true. I find a certain peace in the winter, when snow falls from the heavens. However, that is for another day. For now, we must endure another month of heat.
Harvey should be here soon. He wants me to go with him to the woods. He likes to pretend he’s on an adventure. We are men of sixteen, yet he hasn’t outgrown his boyish whims.
Secretly, I enjoy it.
He’s so carefree as he speaks of finding hidden treasure and tells stories of great explorers. There’s a place where we like to pick berries too. They grow on the bushes near the stream and make for a fine snack when we’ve been running through the trees, pretending to be knights on a noble quest. I can still taste the juice of the blackberries as Harvey and I sat by the water and ate them.
I can still taste his kiss too.
“Oh my god,” I said as my hands started shaking. “No way.”
Just as I was about to continue reading, the doorbell rang.
I placed the journal on the table and left the office, going back down the winding corridor. Through the stained glass of the front door, I caught glimpses of someone standing on the other side. I hadn’t the slightest clue as to who it could be.
When I opened the door, the guy on my doorstep smiled.
“Good afternoon,” he said, flashing the dimple in his cheek. His strawberry blond hair was buzzed on the sides but was longer on top and swooped across his forehead. Dark green eyes were framed by pale lashes. “My name’s Carter. I live down the street. Your only neighbor, really.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ben.”
“Sorry if I’m bothering you.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He didn’t look a day over twenty-five. “I saw you moving in yesterday and wanted to give you a day to settle in before introducing myself.”
“You’re not bothering me.” I hesitated in the doorway. “I’d, uh, invite you in, but it’s kind of a madhouse right now. Mountains and mountains of boxes.”
“I don’t envy you,” Carter said, chuckling. “After moving this last time, I swore to myself I’d never move again.”
“Yeah? Where’d you move from?”
