Out of the Shadows (Bellingwood Book 12) (20 page)

Heath nodded and looked down at his plate.

Rebecca put her hand on his. "She's telling the truth, you know."

He glanced at her and nodded again. "I know."

"Heath," Polly said, waiting for him to look up at her. "I'll talk to him, but I also want you to know this. We expect him here for Thanksgiving and Christmas break unless he has other plans."

"Really?" He looked back and forth between her and Henry.

Henry nodded. "Of course. I know it still seems strange, but this is your home now. Your. Home. That's kind of a lifetime thing. Polly and I didn't just sign up to be your guardian until you turned eighteen. We're here for the rest of your life. And we know Hayden is making his own life, but we're here for him, too." He chuckled. "As long as you two don't have fifteen or twenty other siblings hiding out there, we can absorb one more young man into our lives."

"I wish," Heath said.

"You wish what?" Polly asked.

"I wish we'd had more sisters and brothers. But they would have been in a bad place like I was, so maybe it's just as well."

"You have me!" Rebecca announced. "And at the rate Polly and Henry keep adding people, by the time you go to college, you could have fifteen or twenty siblings."

"Hey," Polly protested. "Don't even say that out loud. What in the world would I do with all of that?"

Henry chuckled. "We'd have to buy a bus. Can't you see it all painted with flowers and rainbows and hearts? You could take them on tour as a singing group. The Polly Family."

When Heath and Rebecca gave him blank looks, he put his hands up. "You know. The Partridge Family?" He looked at Polly, pleading for help. "Nobody?"

With her best patronizing smile, Polly said. "There, there, old man. The young 'uns just haven't been exposed to all of that excellent ancient television yet. It's okay."

"This is wonderful lasagna," Henry said. "You've outdone yourself. May I have more, please?"

She took his plate from him and added more to it, then held her hand out for Heath's plate. Polly remembered hearing Mary say that it always made her feel good when people wanted second helpings of food she'd made. It was nice to have a growing boy in the house who enjoyed eating.

~~~

Later that night, she and Henry were in their bedroom. He was in his chair watching television and she was across the room in her chair with her feet up on an ottoman and two cats in her lap.

"Henry, I need to tell you something," she said.

"I'm listening."

"No, I really need you to listen." Polly stood up and went over to the desk, pulled out the photograph, and handed it to him.

"What's this?"

"I stole it."

That got his attention. He pressed the button on the remote to turn the television off and looked more closely at the picture. "You stole it. From who?"

"From Jim Bridger's house."

Very slowly, he raised his head to look at her. "When were you in Jim Bridger's house?"

"This morning. Just before I found Brutus." Polly looked at the floor. "I went inside to see if the dog was in there and before I knew what I was doing, I was in the dining room. There were all of these pictures on his buffet and when I saw this one I had to take it."

"Why this picture? Is that Jim as a kid? Is he at the Springer House?"

"And that's Muriel Springer with him."

"Okay, so what's the big deal?"

Polly held out Rebecca's sketch pad, opened to the page where Rebecca had drawn her imagining of the ghost.

Henry looked at both of the pictures, then up at Polly, then at the pictures again. He flipped through the pages of the various drawings Rebecca had made and then peered at the photograph.

"What in the hell is going on?" he asked.

"That's my question. How did Rebecca see Muriel Springer?"

Henry turned to the bed and placed both items on top of the bedspread, unable to grasp what he was seeing. "Did she see a picture?"

Polly's body relaxed. "Of course," she said. “That's what happened. Maybe she saw a photograph inside the house when they broke the window that afternoon. Or maybe there's a picture in the library at school."

"That has to be it," Henry said.

"But would Rebecca lie to me about it?" Polly asked. "She said this was the person she saw in the house."

"Have you talked to her tonight and showed her this photograph?"

Polly shook her head. "No. It had me so freaked out, I wanted to talk to you first. I feel guilty about going inside his house."

He grinned up at her. "You're going to have to tell Aaron, aren't you?"

"Not right away. But yes. I can't keep this." She pointed at the picture. "And I'm not going back in there by myself again."

"Good." Henry stacked the photo on top of the sketchbook and handed them both back to Polly. "I'm sure there's a very reasonable explanation for the whole thing. We just don't know what it is yet."

"Right," Polly said.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Eerily quiet was how Polly felt about Sycamore House when she came down the main stairs the next morning. No progress had been made on the haunted house, but Lydia was a masterful planner and Jeff always had things well in hand for their events. She had to be fine with a quiet building.

The side door opened and Evelyn Morrow held the door for Denis Sutworth, who came through on a pair of crutches.

"Good morning, Polly," Evelyn said cheerily. "How are you?"

"I'm doing fine," Polly said. "It's good to see you out and about, Denis. How does it feel?"

He glanced at Evelyn and then back to Polly. "It's okay. Mrs. Morrow says I need to build my strength up. I'm not supposed to put weight on my leg, but I need to be ready for when I can."

"That's a good plan," Polly said. "Mrs. Morrow knows her stuff."

"We're heading into the office," Evelyn gestured for Polly to precede them. "Stephanie is training Denis on the reservation software. He is going to start putting in a few hours at the inn, giving Mr. Greyson free time to work on his hockey rink."

Polly's mouth dropped open. Why hadn't she thought of that? "What a great idea. He's a good man."

Denis nodded. "I like him. He's helping me a lot. Mrs. Morrow is almost done with me. When I can put pressure on my ankle, I have to move out of here."

"Oh," Polly said. "Are you going back home?"

She could have sworn he went pale at the thought. He wobbled on the crutches and finally said, "I don't know. It depends."

Evelyn stood behind him, rolled her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head.

"We'll miss you both when you leave," Polly said. "Evelyn, do you have a minute?"

Denis sat down in a chair to wait for Stephanie, who was on a phone call. "I'll be fine," he said. "Go ahead."

Evelyn followed Polly into her office and shut the door.

"Is he ready to go back home again?" Polly asked quietly, taking her seat.

Evelyn sat across from her and leaned forward. "There may not be many options. He can't afford to live on his own."

"How badly will that set him back? He's gotten so much better in the two months he's been here," Polly said.

"It took some doing," Evelyn said with a nod. "With the pain medications and other drugs, we've worked hard to re-balance his other meds. Doctor Greyson..." She stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Mr. Greyson. He doesn't want people to think of him as a doctor here. He said he left most of that behind. But it’s only a matter of his title. He's fully credentialed, but he doesn't want to be known that way. Anyway, we've done good work together and I hate to see it all destroyed because Denis got back into old habits."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you." Evelyn sat back. "You know, Polly, I wonder how serious you were about bringing other patients into that room. It is a perfect location. And to be honest, I've had several requests in the last two months. People interested in individualized hospice care and even one gentleman who needs to schedule back surgery, but would wait until I could be available to help in his rehabilitation." She grinned at Polly. "I never would have imagined that I could have this much life in my retirement, but it's exactly what I want to be doing."

"I already told you, Evelyn. We love having you here. The business end of it you need to work out with Jeff, but you're more than welcome." Polly slapped her palm across her forehead. "I didn't even think about bringing Rebecca down to see you last week when she was punched. The whole thing freaked us out and I wasn't processing on all four cylinders."

Evelyn smiled at her. "She needed to see a doctor. You did the right thing. And Rebecca's been down to see me a few times since it happened. She's doing fine."

"Thank you," Polly said. "That's a relief."

"She also tells me that Muriel Springer is back," Evelyn said.

Polly shook her head. "I don't know what to think. And now that Jim Bridger is dead, it seems even stranger. I can't make the connections come together. Did you ever know anything about that mystery?"

"No," Evelyn replied. "I didn't live here then. But every year, the stories get repeated and dear old Mr. Bridger made quite a living off telling those stories."

"He made money off of it?" Polly asked.

"Every time someone wanted to do a piece on haunted houses in Iowa, they'd come to Bellingwood and his star would shine once again. The poor old man had been infatuated with her as a kid and blew her death into something quite romantically tragic. He sold pictures he had of her..." Evelyn dropped her voice to a whisper. "And I don't even want to think about why he had so many. Personally I find it quite odd."

"He was odd," Polly said. "We have his dog upstairs."

"The Chihuahua? Story is, Muriel had a Chihuahua and when she died and her husband came home, he kicked that dog out because it was such a yappy little thing. Jim Bridger took it in and he's had one ever since. Always a male and always named Brutus."

Polly chuckled. "We all have our things, don't we?"

"There's a whole neighborhood that will be glad to see that ghost story die down," Evelyn said. "He brought in the weirdos. Have you heard what's been going on up there this week? That was all him. He contacted groups across the country about the Springer House, knowing that it was probably going to be sold. Once that property is cleaned up and the house either razed to the ground or completely renovated, it won't take long for the tales of ghosts and haunts to be nothing more than a page in the history books."

"I saw the fire dancers the other night," Polly said. "They’re going to be there every night until Halloween." She laughed. "Maybe I'll have to talk Eliseo into riding past there Saturday night with me in my Grim Reaper costume and him with his coffin and gravediggers. That would spook 'em."

~~~

Evelyn went back to her room and Polly decided to go up town for coffee. This was much too convenient. She ran upstairs to see how the dogs were getting along. Adding another animal wasn't in her immediate plans, but she knew better than to question it. Whatever was going to happen, would happen.

Brutus was lying on the floor in front of the couch on full alert, while Obiwan and Han were sprawled out, wrapped in each other's legs on top of the couch.

"Not yet ready to trust them?" she asked. Every dog came fully alert when she spoke.

"You two stay put. I wouldn't want to disturb your beauty sleep. I'll just take Brutus with me. But I'll take an extra blanket. There's not much on him to keep a little dog warm."

She chased him around the sofa a couple of times before she finally sat down and waited for him to approach. Poor thing. He didn't have any idea what was happening. As soon as he got close, she picked him up, chuckling at his weight. There wasn't much to the dog. She tucked him under her arm and grabbed one of the blankets off the back of the sofa. If there was one thing Polly had plenty of in her life it was blankets. All shapes, sizes, colors, textures. It didn't matter. She was addicted to them and had more than most people she knew. But there were evenings when every single one of them was in use and that made it easier for her to justify the next purchase.

Polly took a leash off the hook once she got downstairs and snapped it on Brutus's collar.

She parked in front of the coffee shop and left the truck running while she went in. There weren't many people and Camille was the only person behind the counter.

"Pretty quiet in here," Polly said.

Camille smiled while she prepared Polly's order. "It hits a lull in the morning. We'll see a few people within the hour. This afternoon, more and more will sneak away from their offices. Things are going well, though."

"I haven't seen much of Sal up here. Am I just missing her?"

"She's not much of a morning person," Camille said with a grin. "She comes in late afternoons. If I'm alone and need help, she's always ready to pitch in."

"Afternoons." Polly shook her head. "What was I thinking? Of course! When we were in college, the worst days of the week were those she had early morning classes." She glanced outside. "Could I get a small cup of frothy milk for a dog who needs some happy?"

Camille turned to get a small cup. "Is something wrong with one of your dogs?"

"Oh no," Polly said. "It's a Chihuahua who belonged to the man who was killed. I want to find the perfect home for him, but until then, I can spoil the little bugger."

"That's sweet," Camille said.

"You want a dog?"

"I'm more of a cat person. And even then, until I get into my own place, I don't want to think about pets."

Polly gathered everything up and headed for the door.

"Say hi to Sal. I'll see you later."

She got back in the warm truck to a happy dog and sipped her hot coffee while Brutus lapped up the milk.

"We're going to do some investigating," Polly said to him. "Are you ready?"

Brutus responded to her conversation by wagging his bottom until he nearly fell off the seat. She gathered him back into the blanket and put her hand on his head. "I forget. You're a little excitable thing. Let's keep this calm."

She backed out of the parking space, drove down the street, turned and headed toward the Springer House.

"I know I shouldn't be here. There isn't a single soul in town that would think what I'm doing is a good idea, but I can't stand it. I want to know what people are seeing at that stupid house."

Polly parked across the street from the Springer House, hoping that no one was paying any more attention to her than they had to the other wingnuts in town to gawk at the ghost. She put the leash back on Brutus and took him with her. It was much easier to explain that she was walking a dog than that she was looking for proof of the existence of a ghost.

It was hard not to look sheepish as she crossed the street with the small dog scurrying along at her feet. She shouldn’t be here. She didn't believe in ghosts and she'd already had much too much involvement with the people in this case. As she stepped up on the curb, Brutus tugged on the leash. Polly looked down, wondering if he had something important to tell her. No, he just needed to sniff a blade of grass and mark it as his own.

She looked closely at the homes on the other side of the street, hoping no one was paying attention. She didn't see anyone in the windows and looked up and down the street to make sure she was alone. Good heavens, she felt like a criminal, breaking and entering. Since she'd already done that once, her heart couldn’t take it a second time. She wasn't going into the house, she was only going to look around the lot, just to see what she could find.

With that thought at the top of her mind, Polly pushed the creaky gate open. She and Brutus stepped through to the other side and she was surprised at how bad things looked. The bushes had grown up high as well as wide and were attempting to take over the yard. It was unimaginable that the city had allowed things to get so far out of control in here, but 'out of sight, out of mind' worked in a situation like this. The bushes hid what lay behind them. Several big old trees gave gorgeous shade to the house, but had dropped branches over the years.

She'd been holding the gate open with her body, and when she moved on in, it swung hard to close, banging as it hit, making Polly jump. Apparently those springs had held up well. The pavement of the driveway seemed to be the clearest, so Polly followed a path to it, finally picking Brutus up when he continued to lag behind. The garage was a separate building, but had been connected to the house by a screened breezeway. The screens were rotten and torn away. This must have been where the kids had gotten close to the house.

Polly stepped across the branches to the breezeway door, which was hanging open, bent on its hinges. She swiped at cobwebs that hung from the ceiling, shuddering at the sensation of them brushing her face and clutching her hair. As soon as she got her bearings, she looked for the broken window in the doorway. Henry hadn't found who to talk to about replacing it. But instead of broken glass, a fresh piece of plywood covered the window. Who would have done that? She approached the door tentatively, to test it. When she found it locked, she breathed a sigh of relief.