The Haunting of Twisted Oaks Inn (#8)

[Adelina]

Ivy took the steps two at a time, zipping up to the attic as fast as her little legs could take her. She had seen him. He was there. But, he couldn’t be…could he?

Panting heavily, Ivy jumped up the last step and into the attic. Her eyes carefully scanned the area, looking toward the window where she’d seen the ghost watching her with those big, sad eyes. Now, he was nowhere to be seen, though the cold chill from his presence lingered in the normally-sweltering attic space.

The apparition’s appearance was puzzling to Ivy. She thought, when she’d met him a year ago, that she had helped this soul with his unfinished business, freed him from his earthly restraint. Why was he still here? Was something else troubling his conscience? Or was he just too attached to this place to allow himself to leave it? This was not really Ivy’s area of expertise, and she felt ill-equipped to address the situation. She absently wondered if he had a crush on her, and the absurdity of such a notion quickly sent her into a fit of giggles.

“It isn’t funny, you know.”

Ivy jumped straight into the air as if she’d been branded with a hot poker. She managed to land on her feet, but struggled to keep her balance as she turned to find herself facing the pale spectre. After a few moments of shocked silence, Ivy mouthed, “What? What isn’t funny?”

“Dust.”

Ivy blinked in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

“Dust.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is dust.”

Head cocked to the side, Ivy stared dumbly at the young, pale face. For one so handsome, he certainly ran a bit flat in personality. This was shaping up to be a rather tedious exchange, and Ivy felt thankful that his ghostly pallor was keeping the space cool. She looked him squarely in the eye as she asked, “What are you talking about? Do you mean up here?”

The spectre looked utterly unperturbed. He patiently explained, “In the northeast bedroom. There is much dust. It is unacceptable.”

Ah. Yes, this did make some sense. Renovations were currently underway in the bathroom of that unit, and a new light fixture was being installed in the room itself. Naturally, it made no sense to bother cleaning in there until the work was done.

Ivy clearly saw what was happening. This outdated ghost was again mistaking her for some maid from days past, and seemed to feel it was his duty to admonish her for imperfect housekeeping. Well, she’d indulged him quite enough by taking those licks that were owed to the bygone Julia. That was over a year ago. She’d moved on, and it was time for him to do the same.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he spoke before she got a chance.

“Ivy.”

Stunned silence permeated the room.

He knew her name. He knew who she was. Why, then, was he approaching her like this?

“How do you know my name?” she asked him.

He, in turn, countered with a query of his own. “Are you not the caretaker of my house?”

Ivy considered this for a moment. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

The handsome apparition nodded and continued, “Are you not responsible for the condition of my house?”

For reasons of which she was abundantly aware, Ivy started to feel her innards tighten up. She stammered, “Uh… yeah, I guess so.”

With a slow shake of his head, the ghost corrected, “Do not guess. Are you, or are you not?”

Ivy blinked. She was starting to feel somewhat foolish. “Yes. I am. But that room, the one you’re talking about… it’s being remodeled.” The ghost’s confused expression made her want to laugh, but she stifled the urge and continued to explain. “It’s being…repaired. Fixed up. I know it’s a mess right now, but when the work is all done, it will look even better than it did before.” She peered at his lifeless eyes, trying to detect a note of comprehension. “Do you understand?”

The ghost did not respond. He neither moved, nor spoke. Ivy shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the ghost fixed a penetrating stare upon her, taking time to process her words. Finally, after what felt like an hour to Ivy, he said simply, “I see.”

Well. What did that mean?

His raspy voice shortly stated, “You are taking care of my house.”

Ivy could only shrug and reply, “I’m doing my best.”

“I see,” he said again. “A reminder, then.”

Reminder…? What was he talking about now? Ivy found herself tiring of the spectre’s cryptic utterances and felt like giving up the conversation entirely. She started off toward the stairway, but the ghost stopped her, grasping her arm with a surprisingly solid grip.

“Hey! Let go!” she cried.

The spirit merely shook his head and pulled her stumbling form along with him as he crossed the attic toward a familiar old dresser. She ran into him as he stopped short, and she had a moment’s pause to wonder why she hadn’t just passed through him as had happened before. His rasp became more pronounced, almost alive, as he bellowed, “Where is it?”

At once, Ivy knew what he meant. He was looking for his beloved old paddle, the one that Hurley had taken with him. The ghost appeared extremely distressed at its absence, and for the next few minutes, Ivy was dragged by the arm all around the attic as he searched for what was not there. Ivy tried several times to tell him where it was, just to ease his worry, but he would not listen; each time she spoke, he silenced her with a piercing look. A wave of alarm passed through her, and she sorely wished that Hurley was there to help her.

The ghost halted as they approached the old dresser once again. He appeared to be deep in thought, apparently at a loss for what to do next. Ivy stayed quiet. She had no desire to provoke the despairing spirit any further.

The sudden tightening of the grip on her arm brought a deep gasp from Ivy’s lips. Her eyes widened as the spectre bent toward her, bringing his chilly face inches from her own. “I will find it. Then, I will find you.” The grip loosened, and he motioned toward the stairs. “Go.”

Ivy didn’t need to be told twice. She sped off, her heart pounding, racing all the way down to the great room and out the front door.