paranormal investigators in England who seemed more terrified than knowledgeable. She watched a pair of brothers down in Texas who ghost hunted and some college students who worked with mediums. She watched movies that dealt with the spirit world, everything from the very trippy Poltergeist to the black and white classic, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir to Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost and also The Others , a film that she could not forget because it disturbed her.
She should be an expert on ghosts by now but she was not; although the reams of material she studied provided some insight into understanding Howard’s presence at Seven Oaks, she was more confused than confident. Nothing quite fit the situation so processing the data was like wearing shoes that did not fit but looked chic.
Her experiences with the ghost of Howard Speakman seemed closest to the intelligent haunting category; he interacted, he was aware of her presence, and he realized he was deceased. However, except for that one fact – that the man died a century earlier – Howard did not seem like a ghost at all. He was a man who lacked a corporeal body but when she expressed that to Charli, her friend had snickered.
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” Charli asked, twirling her Daiquiri glass in a slow circle over the table. “I don’t want to make fun of you – Lord knows, you’re my oldest friend in the world but honey, it all sounds insane. You are resigning your job and giving up your apartment to hang with a ghost. That’s way out of the box.”
Vinnie shared Charli’s concerns too. Lillian’s protests that she loved Seven Oaks and wanted to experience small town life in Neosho did not fool anyone but despite the warnings, she was headed back to begin a new life. If she failed, then she would come home with her tail between her legs and start again but she didn’t think it would come to that. What would happen was a blank unknown but as she piloted the car south toward Neosho, happiness settled over her like a benign cloud of blessing.
Pulling up behind Seven Oaks felt right. In the early afternoon sunlight, the house looked as large as it had when she first arrived but this time she did not see the flaws but instead focused on the overall beauty of the house. One detail that nagged, however, was the tall grass, now inches higher than the day she left. Making a mental note to call the teenager who had cut it before, Lillian let herself in through the back door.
The dim kitchen was silent and as she moved through the house, she heard no unusual sounds, no piano music, or footsteps. Every ornament was in its place and nothing rearranged. After a week away, the air smelled of must and closed up house, not unpleasant but far from appealing. She expected Howard to show up with every footstep that she made but she reached the bedroom with her bags without meeting him.
Disappointment turned her stomach into a cold ball and intensified the slight headache from driving. Maybe she was crazy after all and Howard no more than a figment of an overactive imagination, something her parents and every teacher since kindergarten had accused her of owning. Was I wrong, she asked herself, sinking down onto the bed with more force than necessary. Had she given up a job, an apartment she had liked, and ignored the pleas of those nearest to her for a delusion, for something that was not there?
Feeling foolish, she said his name aloud. “Howard. Howard, are you here?”
In the moments, after she spoke Lillian heard the distant burr of a lawnmower, someone honking a car horn, and the trill of a cardinal in a treetop outside the window but no tread on the stair, no music, and nothing else.
She had promised to call her mother when she reached Neosho so with a sigh; she dug out her cell phone and dialed the number. Just as her mother answered, she glanced up and yipped. Howard stood in the hallway outside the bedroom wearing denim britches and a shirt with suspenders.
She should be an expert on ghosts by now but she was not; although the reams of material she studied provided some insight into understanding Howard’s presence at Seven Oaks, she was more confused than confident. Nothing quite fit the situation so processing the data was like wearing shoes that did not fit but looked chic.
Her experiences with the ghost of Howard Speakman seemed closest to the intelligent haunting category; he interacted, he was aware of her presence, and he realized he was deceased. However, except for that one fact – that the man died a century earlier – Howard did not seem like a ghost at all. He was a man who lacked a corporeal body but when she expressed that to Charli, her friend had snickered.
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” Charli asked, twirling her Daiquiri glass in a slow circle over the table. “I don’t want to make fun of you – Lord knows, you’re my oldest friend in the world but honey, it all sounds insane. You are resigning your job and giving up your apartment to hang with a ghost. That’s way out of the box.”
Vinnie shared Charli’s concerns too. Lillian’s protests that she loved Seven Oaks and wanted to experience small town life in Neosho did not fool anyone but despite the warnings, she was headed back to begin a new life. If she failed, then she would come home with her tail between her legs and start again but she didn’t think it would come to that. What would happen was a blank unknown but as she piloted the car south toward Neosho, happiness settled over her like a benign cloud of blessing.
Pulling up behind Seven Oaks felt right. In the early afternoon sunlight, the house looked as large as it had when she first arrived but this time she did not see the flaws but instead focused on the overall beauty of the house. One detail that nagged, however, was the tall grass, now inches higher than the day she left. Making a mental note to call the teenager who had cut it before, Lillian let herself in through the back door.
The dim kitchen was silent and as she moved through the house, she heard no unusual sounds, no piano music, or footsteps. Every ornament was in its place and nothing rearranged. After a week away, the air smelled of must and closed up house, not unpleasant but far from appealing. She expected Howard to show up with every footstep that she made but she reached the bedroom with her bags without meeting him.
Disappointment turned her stomach into a cold ball and intensified the slight headache from driving. Maybe she was crazy after all and Howard no more than a figment of an overactive imagination, something her parents and every teacher since kindergarten had accused her of owning. Was I wrong, she asked herself, sinking down onto the bed with more force than necessary. Had she given up a job, an apartment she had liked, and ignored the pleas of those nearest to her for a delusion, for something that was not there?
Feeling foolish, she said his name aloud. “Howard. Howard, are you here?”
In the moments, after she spoke Lillian heard the distant burr of a lawnmower, someone honking a car horn, and the trill of a cardinal in a treetop outside the window but no tread on the stair, no music, and nothing else.
She had promised to call her mother when she reached Neosho so with a sigh; she dug out her cell phone and dialed the number. Just as her mother answered, she glanced up and yipped. Howard stood in the hallway outside the bedroom wearing denim britches and a shirt with suspenders.
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