Authors: Josh Aterovis
All Things Lost (8 page)
“Wait, wait, wait…slow down. Try to remember I didn't sleep last night. You're thinking about buying a bed and breakfast?”
“No, I'm thinking about buying a house and turning it into a B & B.”
“Won't that cost a lot of money?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You have that kind of money?”
“I inherited a hefty sum and I've made good money as an architect. I've invested and saved and I think I have what I need to get started. If I run into any snags I have good credit and I can get a new business loan.”
“I had no idea you had that kind of money.”
“Well, I don't make it habit to walk around talking about my financial status.”
“So you're really going to buy this house?”
“The one I'm seeing today? Well I don't know yet. I haven't even looked at it yet. I have an appointment later. Would you like to go with me?”
“I might not be very good company,” I warned.
“What's new?”
“Ha
ha
, very funny.”
“I'll take that as a yes. You can sleep on the way the way there; it's about an hour away.”
“Where is it?”
“It's a small town named
Chicone
, on
Chicone
Creek.”
“Excuse me? What language are you speaking?”
“I think
it's
Nanticoke
. They're Native American names and as far as I know they were the only Native Americans in that area.”
“Will we…I mean, will you be moving there?”
“If I buy the place, yes.
I'm going to go for my morning walk now. I'm supposed to meet the real estate agent at the house at ten sharp, so be ready at eight-thirty.”
“Will do.”
He drained his coffee and rinsed the mug out in the sink, then, ruffling my hair on his way out, he left for his walk. I must have fallen asleep at the table because the next thing I knew I woke in a puddle of drool to the sound of Adam banging pots around on the stove.
“What time is it?” I asked, blinking away the sleep from my eyes.
“
. Why?”
“Oh shit!” I exclaimed as shot up from the table, sending my chair tumbling in the process. I righted the chair and ran out of the kitchen as Adam stared after me as if I'd lost my mind.
I showered and dressed in record time and was waiting by the car when Steve came out of the house at precisely eight-thirty.
“I would have waited for you, you know?” he said with a grin.
“Don't
wanna
make you late,” I said with a shrug and a grin of my own.
I did sleep on the way there. Between my nap at the kitchen table and my snooze in the car, I thought I might just be able to function somewhat normally. I woke up when the car came to a stop and the engine died. I was confused at first until I remember where I was and why I was there. I felt my mouth drop open as I got my first look at the property Steve was considering.
“Holy shit,” I said in awe, “This is the house you're thinking about buying?”
We were parked in front of an enormous hulk of a house that looked like it came straight out of a Home and Country Magazine. Calling it a house was rather like calling the
Atlantic Ocean
a puddle. It would more accurately be called a mansion. It towered three stories above us, not counting the odd little cupola that sat perched jauntily on the roof, rather like a beret on a Frenchman. It had a wrap-around porch and gingerbread trim practically dripped from every edge.
The grounds themselves were spectacular. The jade-green lawn, dotted liberally with elegant old trees, sloped gently down to the banks of a peaceful looking creek, presumably the
Chicone
.
“It's a possibility,” Steve said calmly, “It makes a nice first impression, doesn't it?”
“You can afford this place?”
“Like I said, I inherited quite a bit.
Not that there will be much left over afterwards.”
“But this place must cost at least a million bucks!”
“That would be a bargain,” he said dryly.
“You mean I've been living with a millionaire all this time and I didn't even know it?”
“Apparently.”
“Does Adam know?”
He laughed, “Of course Adam knows.”
“Why didn't anyone ever tell me?”
“You never asked.”
Our discussion was cut short as a black Jaguar pulled up behind us and leggy blonde unfolded herself from the driver's seat.
“That must be
We climbed out of the car and it did turn out to be
“So what do you think?”
“It looks grand from the outside,” Steve said cautiously.
“Well, it looks just as great from the inside,” she enthused.
“Come on,” she continued, beaming like a 200 watt bulb, “I'll show you around the house first, and then I'll give a quick tour of the yard.” She spun around and bounded onto the porch. All she lacked was the uniform and the pompoms.
We followed her up the broad stairs onto the wrap-around porch. The front door was a massive, deep-set paneled oak affair with a leaded-glass insert. On either side of the door were narrow sidelights of the same leaded-glass. Above the door was a transom of stained glass.
“The main part of the house was begun around 1847 or 48 and completed by 1850,” Victoria said launching into her prepared speech, “It's believed to have been built onto a much older dwelling that could date as far back at the mid to late 18th century. It's quite an architectural and historical treasure.”
She swung the door open to reveal a beautiful foyer. The hardwood floors gleamed with a patina that only a century and a half of use could create. On the right side, a wide staircase with an intricately carved balustrade rose gracefully to the second floor. A broad hallway was directly ahead and doors opened off of it on each side. We stepped into the foyer and I immediately smelled the musty, yet pleasant scent that all old houses seem to have. We had barely cleared the door before it swung to with a loud bang, seemingly of its own accord. We all jumped and
“These old houses can be a bit drafty,” she said in a falsely bright voice. I looked over at Steve who had a slight smile playing around his lips. What was going on?
Marnien
. He was a successful shipping magnate who married a much younger lady named
Amalie
. This house was built specifically for her and he named the plantation
Munquisock
, which is the Nanticoke Indian's word for blackberries and was reportedly the native's name for the area.”
I could have sworn she said it was named Monkey Sock. I found out the correct spelling later.
She went on, “The Captain and
Amalie
moved into the house long before it was really finished. They just lived in the sections that were livable and moved into the new rooms as they were completed. We know all this from letters
Amalie
sent to her sister that were printed in a history of the area. The Captain went to sea pretty regularly and
Amalie
must have spent a lot of time alone here in the house that she loved so much. In the spring of 1851, the Captain went to sea as he'd done so many times before. When he didn't return on schedule and news of terrible storms reached her,
Amalie
despaired that he would return alive. Tragically, when the Captain did return, he found his beloved wife dead, some said of a broken heart because she believed her husband lost at sea. The Captain lived here alone for a few years before he too, passed on.”
“Is someone else here?” I asked.
“Why?” I pressed.
“The house is haunted,” Steve answered.
Chapter 5
I turned to Steve with my mouth agape, thinking I must have misunderstood him.
“W-w-what did you say?” she stammered.
“The house is haunted, am I right?” Steve said, his voice as calm as ever, although his eyes had taken on a merry twinkle. Not what one would expect from someone who had just suggested we were in a real-live haunted house.
“Did someone say something before you came? That's what it is, isn't it? People are spreading the stories all over.”
“Actually, I hadn't heard any stories, although I would love to hear them now. I'm something of a paranormal buff.”
“Um…this whole conversation is paranormal if you ask me,” I interrupted. “You don't really believe in ghosts do you, Steve?”
“I believe I'm not so smart as to think I know all there is to know about this universe we live in. There are so many things we just simply can't explain through the use of logic and science.” He was really warming up to his subject, pacing around the entryway in long, excited strides as he talked. I'd never seen him like this. “There is a whole supernatural realm that we know very little about. If you want to call them ghosts, meaning an apparition of a deceased person, fine. Or you can call them manifestations of surviving emotional memories, a kind of emotional imprint.”
“So you're still interested in the house?”
“Of course.
I want a full tour, and all the history you know.”
“Well, if you're sure. After the Captain died…” she paused as if she expected
Amalie
to insert a comment here, then went on when only silence filled the gap, “…there were no children, so the house was passed through a succession of owners. It was left empty for quite an extended period of time right after the turn of the century. A doctor named Johnson from
Baltimore
bought it in the Roaring Twenties and it was quite the swinging joint for a while.” Speaking of swinging, she was getting back into the swing of her prepared speech now that she knew she still had a live one on the hook. Her color had returned to normal and she was becoming more animated as she talked. “Over time, most of the surrounding land was sold off for farmland. When the Captain bought the land, the plantation encompassed more than a thousand acres.”
She continued, “When Doctor Johnson died in 1950, his son left it vacant for a number of years and it fell into disrepair. The son eventually sold the house to another doctor who intended to retire on the Shore. He fixed up the house and he and his wife moved down. They didn't stay long. That's when the ghost stories started.”