I languished in the bath longer than I probably should have. My muscles aching more than I cared to admit
as I recalled my ordeal from the previous evening. I might have allowed myself to be lolled back
into a welcome sleep had I not been so frightened. I was more scared than I cared to admit. I stretched the taunt of my calves as I
bathed, wincing at the burning ache of each thigh. I scrubbed my skin diligently, trying to
distract myself from the fact that I just knew
someone meant to frighten me…or worse.
For all they knew, I could have taken refuge in the old shack, too
horrified to leave until morning. I
would have been frozen to death before the sun rose and any footsteps from my
assailant covered by a swift, drifting snowfall. For reasons unaware, I was sure someone was
out to get me.
I surveyed the bedroom as I dried my hair, taking note of
Vanessa’s empty bed with a pang. If only
I knew where she might be, we could leave this dreary house together. I’d only been ‘home’ for a few days and
already I felt an overwhelming need to leave.
I could not tell if my foreboding originated from intuition or fear, but
I longed miserably for the girls’ dormitory at the college I’d left behind. I’d
packed my bags and waved goodbye to the bright, tree-lined campus in such good
spirits, looking forward to my time with Vanessa and hoping to rekindle the
childhood relationship I once had with my family.
Yet, so far I’d spent my time reading outdated romance novels
and talking to Shadow. In less than a
week, I’d grown lonely for companionship.
Grandma seemed always to be busy, and though I’d been asked to the
farmhouse to help care for Grandpa Wayne, as of yet my efforts had been
declined. It seemed Aunt Helen wished to
be his only caretaker. I rubbed my eyes
with my hands, wondering why I’d even been asked to rejoin the family for the winter. The cold, quiet, creaking farmhouse was a demure
comparison to the upbeat chaos of the dorm where I’d spent the last two years
of my life. I missed the carefree
laughter of my fellow classmates, the buzzing halls of each building. I felt heartsick for those busy classrooms,
row upon row full of happy girls eager to learn, spilling details of their love
lives across geography books and greasy cafeteria food.
I took a moment to rearrange my stationary on the vintage
roll-top desk and promised myself I’d find the time to write some letters to old
friends tonight. I’d never been particularly
close to most of the girls at school, being studious as I was and working my
way through college. But I did consider
my old roommate, Mary, a friend I could depend on. Actually, if I could find my old datebook
amongst the disarray of my unpacked luggage, I meant to give her a call. Perhaps I’d ring her after dinner when I knew
she’d be finished with classes for the day.
I smiled as I quickly dressed in a pink pantsuit and brushed my hair, it
would be wonderful to hear a familiar, friendly voice!
Although I was lonely and scared, I could not leave just
yet. Rather they needed me as nurse maid
or not, I resolved to be there for Grandpa Wayne. And besides, perhaps Greg and I would become
friends. If nothing else, I had a day on
the town to look forward to tomorrow. I
hadn’t seen downtown Avalon since I was a child. I was excited to see what new businesses had
sprung up, if any. I was also thirsty
for a good coffee shop and was sure Greg would treat me to one. I could also stop by the unemployment agency
and see what job opportunities were available.
My stomach was
growling for some of Libby’s home-cooked
food as I latched my favorite earrings and gave my lips a delicate stoke of
gloss. I didn’t have a clock in my room but
felt sure it must be well past afternoon.
I rushed out the door, afraid
there’d be nothing left of breakfast if I didn’t hurry. But as I made my way to the stairs, something
odd struck me.
In all the time I’d spent in Grandpa Waynes room, feeding him
lunch or reading to him from his favorite books, I’d never taken notice of any medical
tools. Sure, there were boxes of bed
linen, medications, and supplies for his breathing treatments. But as I wracked my brain, I came to the swift conclusion that I had
never recalled as much as a blood pressure cuff or stethoscope. Aunt Helen was administering Grandpa Wayne’s medication
and keeping him well-fed and comfortable, but was she keeping a record of his
vitals? Was she informed enough to know
if his condition might be worsening? And
if she wasn’t, what would happen if he suddenly took a turn for the worse and
no one noticed until it was too late?
Exasperated, but guided by a sense of loyalty and the
personal competency of my vocation, I retraced my footsteps to the lonely bedroom.
I quickly grabbed my nurse case from the
closet where I’d placed it for safekeeping.
Not only were the tools expensive, but I recalled how delicately and
carefully I’d cleaned and packed my beloved tools. As I made plans to rejoin the family here, I
was sure I’d be spending a majority of my time nursing Grandpa Wayne back to
health. How wrong I’d been! One thing was for sure, though, I intended to
give Grandpa a thorough check-up and to begin a record of his vitals.
He was sleeping peacefully as I eased into the dim-lit bedroom.
The room was almost stifling, not unlike
the heavy stench of hospital and sickness.
Grandpa Wayne seemed to be resting easily as I lifted his wrist and
timed his pulse to the ancient alarm clock that sat on his nightstand. He roused a bit at the uncomfortable squeeze
of the blood pressure cuff, but seemed to be sedated, probably from his night-time
medication regiment. I was sure it must have
include a sleeping aid. Everything
seemed stable for now, and I gently brushed his forehead with my hand to make
sure no fever was present. I wondered if
he’d eaten this morning, then dismissed my concern when I saw the half-eaten
plate on his breakfast tray. Knowing how
difficult it was for Helen to get around with a cane, I smoothed out Grandpas
blanket and grabbed the tray.
As I headed for the door, something out of the corner of my
eye caught my attention. Actually, had I
not been looking down at the breakfast tray in my hand, I would not have noticed
how out of place the house shoes were in the corner of Grandpa’s room. For all purposes, the shoes appeared to
belong to Grandpa. They were
old-fashioned and embroidered in a light blue design. And the oddest thing was the muddy water that
had gathered around them. There was no
mistake that the shoes had been recently worn outside. The muddy water had once been a frozen mix of
dirt and snow. I bent to inspect the
shoes, noting that the water was about room temperature now. Obviously, they had been worn hours earlier,
maybe even yesterday. I froze in fear,
wondering if they’d been worn last night. Grandpa was in no condition to go
outside, he couldn’t even make it downstairs!
Who would wear his slippers, and why?
I couldn’t get the thought out of my head as I replaced my
nurse bag and headed down the stairs.
Everyone in these parts wore
boots when venturing outdoors. In fact,
there were several pairs of muddy boots sitting on a hearth rug right by the
front door. It made absolutely no sense
to me that someone would be wearing Grandpa’s house shoes. Even if someone had for some reason worn
them, there was no logic in the idea that they would bypass their winter boots
and wear a pair of slippers out into the deep snow during mid-winter. This was a mystery that made no sense to
me. Yet, I felt it played some vital
role in the events of the previous night.
I didn’t know yet where the soiled shoes fit in with the eerie events
that had plagued me since my first night here, but I wondered if they could be
related somehow.
“Nonsense,”
I told myself as I shook my head.
“The quiet must be getting to
me. Anyone could put on a pair of old
house shoes and absent-mindedly wear them outside into the snow. Especially Grandma, forgetful in her old age.”
I kept telling myself that as I trudged down the stairs and
into the kitchen, breakfast tray perched in my right-hand. Carrying the tray like that reminded me of
the homely little cafe I worked at right up until graduation. I never thought I’d look back fondly on the bustle
of that tiny mom and pop restaurant, the mess of the milkshake machine, the
itchy little red plaid apron all the waitresses had to wear. I’d spent almost every evening there for the
past two years. Miss Whittle, the owner,
had begged me to stay in the pouty, angry way she had of making one feel
guilty. She’d sat me down, asked me why
I would want to return to a family who’d all but pushed me from their lives for
the last ten years. She had warned me
against returning to Hollow Wind, saying I would only feel like an outsider,
warning me that things change. And now,
more than ever, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps her words hadn’t been an
omen.
New installments added each Monday. Don't miss the next chilling addition!!
<<<House of Hollow Wind Part 9 House of Hollow Wind Part 11>>>
<<<House of Hollow Wind Part 9 House of Hollow Wind Part 11>>>
