Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island (12 page)

Jesse hesitated by his door and looked at his father’s eyes
. Paul winked. “Call me if you need me.”

Jesse nodded and slept
through the night.

Paul did not
. He had the dream. It started differently this time. Her body fit perfectly next to him in their bed, the soft lines of her figure pliant in his hands. He felt Allison stroke him, her fingers surrounded him, making him hard and ready. Reaching out, she slipped away to be dragged down the corridor. He saw her hands flailing. The mist rolled in, obscuring the monster, Allison’s screams echoing off the walls. Paul’s rage roiled through him; he raced after them, only to have them elude his every turn. Exhausted, his breath rasping in his ears, he grabbed and clutched a handful of the monster’s matted hair. Allison was slung over its back, her face white and frightened. She called to him, but the guttural growl smothered her voice. The fight was clumsy and slow. Paul felt more powerful, as though he almost had the fiend. But the greasy fur slipped through his fingers, leaving him to finish the night alone.

chapter 5

Thursday

He woke heavy eyed, weary to
the bone, dissatisfied, and feeling broken.

“Suck it up,” he told his reflection in the mirror
. He put on his game face and got the kids out in an organized fashion. He had to admit with pride in the fact that they were coming to the end of the first week and had ironed out so many difficulties. He wished the dreams would stop, though. But maybe they weren’t dreams; perhaps they were something else. While he knew to all outward appearances he looked functioning, deep down he was beginning to worry that there was a message in the dreams. Was the beast holding Allison back? Did she need Paul’s help? Like the time he had rescued her from the deep snow, did his wife need his help now? Was she trying to get a message to him about the monster holding her captive? Could any of this be real? Logically, he reasoned that his love for her created dreams, but why would she be in jeopardy? Unease filled his heart, his sense telling him she was in trouble. Could the dreams be telling him he had to do something? Paul shook his head. Like he told the kids, they were dreams, wishful thinking, his mind reaching out for the woman he loved. So, the other half of his brain asked, if it’s wishful thinking, why would Allison be terrorized?

Maybe Molly’s p
sychic will have an answer, he thought then laughed to himself. He didn’t believe in that kind of crap.

Paul dialed Craig while he was sitting at the table having his coffee
. “Can you meet me?” he asked.

“I’m in Manhattan
. Is seven OK?”

He
hesitated. “I’ll make arrangements.” They picked a bar and hung up.

He called Molly.
“I’ll be a few minutes late today.”

“So what else is new?”

Dry cleaners, grocery, and lastly the dance store to pick up outfits for the girls and shoes to match.

While driving he arranged for Jesse to be in the Saturday league for basketball
, and he was so busy, that by the time he pulled into work, he realized he hadn’t thought of Allison for the latter part of the morning.

“I did it
,” Molly informed him.

“Did what?” he asked absently as he went through his mail.

“I got Georgia. She’ll come to my house Friday night. After that you can decide if you want her to do the cleansing.”

“O
K.” He looked up at her earnest face. “I really don’t know about this.”

“How much proof do you need
? You saw the pictures. I don’t know what’s going on in your house at night, but I know you well enough to know that it’s something strange.”

He
looked away. “Grief is a funny thing. It messes with your mind. OK, OK, I’ll see your nut job.”

He called his mother asking if she would watch the kids Friday night.

“Why, what are you doing?”

“I have to do a business thing,” he said evasively.

“You know I will always be available to you. What time?”

“Molly, what time?”

“You’re going out with Molly?” his mother asked.

“Ma
. I said it was a business thing.” He felt heat move up his neck to color his face red.

“Seven
.” She called out excited. “I told her to be here at seven.”

“Seven
. Oh crap, Ma, I have to meet someone tonight. Can you watch them tonight too? I won’t be long.”

“Don’t cook
. I’ll bring supper.”

“Great. I know the kids will be happy.”

====

He left work early and took a drive to Oyster Bay
. There was a little hole in the wall that they used to go to when they were teens to buy souvlaki. It was one of those places that had a special way of cooking it and he knew the owner well.

He hadn’t been there for over seven months and when he walked in, Nick
, the owner, put down the rag he was holding, came around the counter, and held out his hand.

“Mr. Paul...”
He had a thick Greek accent, iron-gray hair, and a vintage mustache. He called to his wife who was singing in the rear. “Leni, Mr. Paul is here. We was just talking about you.”

Paul shook his hand warmly.

“I’m coming,” she called out. “Give him coffee. He loves your coffee.”

“Thanks
. I’ll take a souvlaki. I’m starving,” he said, surprised that he really was hungry.

“You want to take some for the wife, the kids
?” Nick rushed to the counter, picked up a sickle-shaped knife, and carved paper-thin slices from the hunk of meat grilling next to the stove.

“I make moussaka for you!” Leni called out from the kitchen
, and he recognized the clatter of pots.

“Where you been, Mr. Paul
? I thought you moved over to Spiro. My souvlaki better, no?”

He
slid into the counter. “Yeah, well. My wife got sick.”

Nick halted
. “She OK now?”

That was a good question, Paul thought, but replied, “No
. She passed away last week.”

“Oh my God
. Leni, get out here.” He put down the knife and came to take Paul’s hand. “I don’t believe it. She’s such a good girl. So young.” He tsked. “What happened?”

Leni stood in the door, her face white with shock
. “Oh, Mr. Paul, I’m so sorry.”

He sat with them for an hour, telling them about the illness
, and they told him funny stories about the two of them, how they enjoyed watching their budding romance, seeing them married, and the family grow.

“It’s a terrible thing
.” Nick refilled a glass of ouzo he had pressed on him earlier. “I lost my wife too.”

“What
? Leni is your wife.”

“My second wife
. My first wife die in a car accident in Greece. I left because I couldn’t drive that road no more. I kept seeing her on the road. You know,” he whispered, “dead.”

“Yes
!” Paul leaned forward. “Me too. I keep seeing Allison. What ended up happening?”

Nick looked around to make sure his wife couldn’t hear him
. “I never go back.”

Nick and Leni pressed care packages of food on him, which he reluctantly took
. It seemed to make them feel better to be doing something for him. They insisted when they saw his half-eaten sandwich grow cold on his plate. He promised to return with the kids the following week.

====

Nonni and Grandpa had dinner on the table by the time he got home from work. They told him to take his time getting home; they would be there for the kids. Lisa sat on the couch braiding Stella’s hair. Veronica, quite the housekeeper, was helping her grandmother put out plates on the table. Guess they wouldn’t be eating off paper tonight. Jesse was in the garage showing his father his fishing rod. Plans were made for a trip to the pond on Sunday.

“What are you doing here?” Paul asked his sister.

“I switched shifts. You OK?”

He nodded and smiled at
the pretty picture his daughter and sister made. “I got stuff in the car. You want to help me?”

She
got up and followed him outside. “You look tired, Paul.”

He shrugged
. “I gotta ask you something. Don’t…Don’t judge me. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Whew. Paulie
. That was the last thing I expected from you.”

“I know
. I know.” Brown eyes studied brown eyes. “Well...do you?”

“Noooo
,” she said finally. “I see terrible things every day. Things that God himself would have never approved. And if he did…I can’t believe in something like that. I trust science, and you can’t marry science and spirituality. Science is the truth. Spirituality…is for nuts.”

“You make sense.”

“You’re just missing Allison.”

“You’re probably right.”

====

Dinner was festive and it did Paul’s heart good to see his kids happy
. He left before the cleanup, to meet Craig. He was early, so he sat down and ordered a beer. Snacking on peanuts, he observed the women lined up at the bar, predators looking to mate. They eyed him, and he looked down, not wanting to make eye contact. He was not interested.

Craig arrived twenty minutes late
. “The LIE was a parking lot. I hate the commute. How you been?”

“You know
. Sucks.”

“Yep
. You were together a long time. How is it going with my sale? I presume this is why you called.”

“Actually no
. Two things.” They were interrupted by the waitress who got Craig’s order of whiskey straight.

Paul reached into his pocket
. “I was at the house, and well, I was in the library. I noticed a book was hanging off the shelf. I shouldn’t have looked in it, but I did and this was inside. I thought you’d want to read it.”

Craig took the letter and read it, his face emotionless
. “Well, well, well, this all fits. I got the autopsy reports today. My mom was far gone with advanced Alzheimer’s. They never said a thing.” He paused. “They were always a private pair.”

Paul didn’t like him
; he was clinical about the whole thing. “Yeah. I’m still sorry. But trust me, as sordid as the shooting was, watching what they did to Allison was horrible.”

“You would have still done the treatments
?” Craig asked.

“When you get the diagnosis, you’re willing to do anything
. Then the options narrow until you are suffering so much, you just want it to end.” Paul never looked up from the table.

“I’m sorry about Ally
. She was an amazing woman. You said there was something else.”

“Would you be offended if I did a p
sychic cleaning of the house?”

A deep rumble of laughter erupted from Craig’s chest
, causing the women to glance at them. Craig appraised a leggy blonde and smiled. She smiled back and Paul knew his friend would not be leaving alone tonight. Craig raised his glass, motioned to the bartender to fill hers, and gave his attention back to Paul.

“You believe all that ghost bullshit?”

“Some strange things have happened. But, really, the house has a reputation. I can say we’ve done a cleansing and it should help with the sale.” He added as an afterthought, “You wife seems to believe.”

“Huh
. The only one possessed is Melissa. She’s a she wolf. Ever hear of a succubus? No, I can see that you haven’t. A succubus is a demon that sucks the life out of men when they sleep. I stopped sleeping with Melissa many years ago.”

This was too much information for Paul
. Craig continued, “As long as you get rid of the eyesore, I don’t care what you do.”

He
sat stunned, not knowing if he was talking about the house or his wife. “I thought you guys were happy.”

“
Were
is the operative word, here, Paul. Marriage isn’t made for our lifetimes. Back when people had shorter life spans, the love lasted. It’s easy to love someone for ten years. Twenty…tough. Thirty…fucking impossible.”

Paul gestured
to the letter that Craig had left on the table. “It looks like it lasted for your parents.”

“An aberration, I assure you.”
Craig dismissed his parents’ long marriage and apparent love for each other, as well as their final sacrifice.

Pensively he wondered if he had the chance, would Allison’s and his love had lasted
? He was sure it would have. He felt attached to her, as if an invisible cord connected them, tied them to each other forever. She was a part of his very soul, like they had been joined at birth. Every time he saw her, it felt like he belonged, like he was coming home. She was as much a part of him as his arm, his heart. She was the other half of his soul. A great wave of loss washed over him, and the bleakness of life without Allison stretched before him. Craig’s abrasive voice brought him back.

“I think we outgrew each other
. Time for something new and improved.” Craig smirked. “She is as unhappy as I am.” He shrugged. “Matter of time. How much?”

“How much what?” Paul choked on the last of his beer
. He thought he was asking him how much time was left for him to stay with his wife.

“How much is the psych
ic cleaner going to cost me?”

“I haven’t asked yet. Can’t
be more than a few dollars.”

“Send me the bill
. Gotta go.” He slid out and walked over to join the woman at the bar.

Paul pulled out of the bar, feeling jumpy and unhappy
. It was not yet eight o’clock, but it was pitch black. Something nagged at the back of his mind, so he drove to Stillwell and parked in the driveway. Walking around the back, he used a flashlight to find his way to the well. He felt drawn to the place, as if a presence was calling him there. The air was still, not a sound to break the velvet darkness of the night. He pointed the flashlight into the well and peered down. It was deep, dry, and cloaked in shadows. The walls were made of cobblestone, with flecks of mica reflecting moonlight back at him. The light bathed the darkness and he stopped. There was something in the wall, but it was close to the bottom. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it shined back at him. Frustrated, he glanced up to the bedroom window and saw the curtain shift, but not before a pale face stared down at him. He couldn’t make out the features, but it was there. He rubbed his eyes, blinked really hard, and looked again. The face was still there. It pulled the curtain shut and moved back, never taking its eyes off him.