Hacienda Moon (The Path Seekers) (15 page)

Chest heaving, Tandie stood with her nose so close to the door she almost felt as if she were part of the wood. Reluctantly, she put her hand up and pushed the door open. Daylight filled Tandie’s sensitive eyes. The light struck them, and she flinched. Glancing around, Tandie reopened her eyes and focused on the room’s new look. The dust-covered hardwood floors that Tandie saw when she first walked into the room, now shone brilliant and shiny. A small bed sat beside the middle of the left wall. The bed dressings were decorated with purple and pink flowers. It was a little girl’s room.

Sitting in the window facing Chelby Rose’s neglected gardens was an old woman in a white rocking chair. She stopped humming for a moment when Tandie entered the room. Tension filled the next few moments. The woman resumed humming in a raspy voice as she sat staring outside, her gaze fixated on something in the garden.

“Who are you?” Tandie’s voice echoed.

She reached out to touch the old woman’s shoulders. Her long silvery gray braid started to flap. A wind blew inside the house?
 
No way
. She lifted one wrinkled, blotchy hand and pointed toward the window, and continued humming. Tandie caught a glance at her face moments before the woman disappeared. The fog surrounding Tandie’s vision faded, revealing a sunny day. The vision she just had or whatever it was had ended.

Tandie stood in a clear room filled with daylight, now. She snapped out of the trance as if a switch turned reality back on inside her head. She stood in the same locked room, but it was empty now. The walls were covered with dust and dirt. It was as if the old woman was never there.

A
chop chop chop
sound came from outside. Tandie walked over to the window overlooking the garden. Ella. She stood beside the largest rose bush, cutting dead branches off by the dozen.

Tandie had never experienced a walking vision before where she interacted with a spirit in a dream. She stood mesmerized for a moment, half wondering where Ella had been over the past month, and partly trying to figure out what the old woman wanted her to know about her eager gardening girl.

She walked down the stairs, out the front door, and approached Ella. The girl offered her a glowing smile.

“G’Day, Ms. Harrison—I mean, Tandie.”

“Hello, Ella. I thought we agreed you’d call before coming over.”

“Well yeah, but my garden needs me today.”

“You mean,
my
garden?” Tandie corrected.

“But of course that’s what I meant.” She turned on the innocent-girl smile.

“If you’re going to work for me, you’ll have to respect my schedule,” Tandie said.

Ella stared hard at Tandie for a long moment. Her smile faded, and her vivid blue eyes turned icy. She dropped the sheers and started trembling.

“I’ve always been responsible for these roses. Now you’re telling me I can’t work with them?” Her southern accent deepened. The girl transformed into Ms. Hyde within a few seconds.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Tandie said, feeling a touch edgy.

She moved closer to Tandie’s face. “They think I don’t know. You think I don’t know.”

Tandie studied Ella for a long moment before speaking. “Ella, you’re done for the day.” She used the stern voice she had perfected from her time with the NYPD.

Ella glanced up at the window where Tandie had just left the old woman’s spirit. A wicked smile spread across her heart-shaped lips, sending chills through to Tandie’s core.

“No, miss missy! You’re the one who’s about to be done.” Ella spat on the ground by Tandie’s feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tandie demanded, figuring she was going to have to call the authorities if Ella kept up with this behavior. She wondered how long it would take them to get to her house. Since arriving in Bolivia she hadn’t seen a single police station or even a sheriff.

Ella turned around without answering her question. Instead, she slammed her hands up on her cheeks, making a whack that startled Tandie. With her nostrils flaring and her face pinched, the girl then ran screeching like a wounded animal down the driveway and through Chelby Rose’s gates.

“It’s not fair! Not fair!” Ella screamed over and over again as she ran down the road, out of sight, and into forest.

12

The soprano’s flawless voiced blared through Tandie’s speakers. Leontyne Price, one of the first African American sopranos, had skills that rivaled Carla Bruni’s superb vocals. The deep, dreary bass inside the male tenor’s vocals highlighted the soprano’s voice in a haunting duet as Tandie hummed to
Aida
while writing. She enjoyed listening to opera during writer’s block moments. But she still found it hard to focus.

Her mind drifted between three things: Eric the annoying, but talented contractor, Ella the screaming teenager with issues, and the return of her visions. Every now and then she thought of Saul; but he hadn’t even called to check on the renovations since the night she jilted him a month ago. Finding room in a clouded mind for such a strangely elusive person seemed a waste of time and energy. Though, she hoped what happened didn’t taint his decision to sell her the house. With Eric’s help, she had turned the place into something to be proud of the way Thomas Chelby did long ago.

To clear her mind, she attempted to mimic Leontyne’s unearthly high vocals. But she ended up coughing in her hand, a tingle picking at her vocal cords. She set the paper containing the scene she typed to the side.

Much to Tandie’s pleasant surprise, Breena had picked up on her love of opera. Even though Tandie didn’t understand the foreign language in the songs, she learned to enjoy the complex vocals and lush musical arrangements.

“I need water, Baby B.” She stood and headed toward the kitchen. Turning to glance back at the picture of Breena, she said, “Were you responsible for that vision I had earlier today?” The girl’s wide, toothy smile beamed back at Tandie, silent in answer, but revealing much with her eyes.

Grandma Zee used to say that pictures carry little pieces of a person’s spirit. That’s why witches and voodoo priestesses have so much power over their victims after they get a lock of hair or a personal item.

Tandie stared at the picture so long that she thought she heard her little girl giggle. After a few moments more, another giggle came from the direction of the photograph. She frowned, tilted her head, and reached toward the frame. And then she shook off her delirium and continued on her mission to remove the dust bunnies from her vocal cords.

 
She pranced to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Gulping water straight from the pitcher, she thought about the last scene she wrote in her novel. Maud Cropels, her unwilling heroine, had just found three dead bodies and her handsome hero was the number one suspect on the list.

The water washed away the tingle in her throat, but not the anxiety in her chest that had returned over the last few days. She missed her daughter. That horrible ache still trickled into her mind every day, sometimes clouding it.
One cure. One solution. Wine. And lots of it.
Stepping over to the cabinets, she removed one of her favorite blue-tinted glasses.

Thunk! Thunk! Loud knocks echoed from upstairs. Tandie’s heart made a cartwheel and she almost dropped her glass. The pipes in her bathroom. What else could make a noise like that? “Damn it! I thought Eric fixed those.”

Tandie left the kitchen, rounded the corner beside the stairway, and started up the steps.

Her breath caught at the sight before her. The creepy chills surged up her arm like a million feathers tickling her skin at once.

Three ragged, dirty children—two older boys and a young girl around six or seven years old—stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at Tandie. All three kids had black-rimmed eyes and pale skin. The girl, who appeared to be the youngest, wore a tattered colonial-style dress that might have been white at some point. The boys’ pants were torn at the bottom, giving a clear view of their bare feet. Their shirts appeared to have plaid markings on their filthy fabric; but Tandie couldn’t tell.

The oldest boy took one step down toward her. Tandie stumbled backward and dropped her glass, shattering it. She glanced back up at the children. Each child wore amused expressions. They covered their mouths, suppressing their giggles. Laughter had been coming from Breena’s photograph too, or so she thought. Tandie had prepared to ask the children how they got inside the house when the middle boy turned and faded as if someone had turned off his image by using a light switch. The oldest boy flickered and faded next. But, the girl stayed and stared at Tandie, her body plastered against the wall beside the stairway.

“No freaking way!” Tandie said, gasping.

More giggles and more feet thumped upstairs. The sounds of children filled Chelby Rose’s hallways as Tandie’s heart pounded through her tee shirt. She covered her mouth, afraid to move. Suddenly, upstairs the thudding feet running up and down the hallway stopped; and then the two boys began to chant.

“Grandma wants a brier switch! Grandma’s gonna whip somebody!” The two boys’ voices repeated the words like a mantra.

Tandie gasped, hypnotized by the chanting, an eerie tune of high-pitched voices that would haunt her dreams for sure. At that moment, Leontyne Price’s voice hit the highest part of
Aida
, an insane note to compliment an equally crazy moment.

The little girl stood at the top of the stairs and stared down at Tandie. The child’s dingy dress, the matted hair, and ashen pale skin gave her an eerie appearance. She stared at Tandie with eyes that reminded her of the strange little boy she met at the Brunswick Town store. Eyes that made Tandie’s palms sweat and her underarms prickle. From inside the living room, the male opera singer’s voice sang an aggressive range of vocal dips paired with a medley of strings drumming through Tandie’s ears. The music along with the children chanting made her feel insane.

“What do you want?” Tandie asked in a shaky voice.

The little girl placed a finger to her lips and glanced behind her. She answered Tandie in a whisper. “Shh. Grandma will spank us if we talk.”

Tandie’s lips quivered and her chest heaved. Without removing her gaze from the child, she stepped over the broken wine glass and made her way to the bottom step, making it creak.

The child frowned. “You’re making too much noise. She’ll hear us.”

The feet running overhead echoed through the house. It was almost as if there were ten children instead of two boys. Blood curdling screams sent shivers careening down Tandie’s spine. She placed her hands over her ears and stumbled back, barely missing the broken glass. She glanced up at the little girl. Only the dark stairwell remained.

Tandie raced back toward her study, trying to think of what she’d say on her way to the phone.

“Okay. Breathe once. Breathe twice. Three times and you’re there. Okay. You can do this. Creepy little ghost kids aren’t really running around the hallway upstairs. Think!” One name flashed through her mind. Eric Fontalvo.

Tandie had programmed his number into her Blackberry. She jabbed at the button containing Eric’s number. Her hands shook so badly she could barely hold on to the phone.

Footsteps still pattered up and down the upstairs hallways. The children screamed as if they were being tortured. Tandie jerked her head upward, fear consuming her insides in a whirlwind of high operatic notes, screams, and panting breath.
 

“Get a grip, Harrison. You’re used to this,” Tandie said through gasps. But who was she kidding? Tandie had never watched ghosts physically manifest.

Eric’s deep voice sailed through the phone. “Hello—”

“Eric! I need you to come as fast as you can! There are some screaming things running around my house.”

“—you’ve reached Fontalvo Contractor Services where every place is a restorable one, and we’ve got the tools to make it right.”
 
Tandie dropped the phone, her throat raw from gasping. “Damn it!”

A frantic knock at the door made her jerk toward it.
Now what?

“Tandie! Are you in there? Are you alright?” Eric’s muffled voice was on the other side of the door. After a few moments of silence, he thrashed his body against it.

Relief washed over Tandie’s body as she rushed toward the door, opening it and flinging herself into Eric’s arms before she realized what she’d done.

“Talk about just in time.” She buried her face against his warm chest that smelled of the outdoors and faint cologne. It was a welcome aroma after experiencing the moldy odor that came when the children appeared on the stairway. In the background, the opera singers hit their final, long note, signaling the end of
Aida
.

“What’s going on?” Eric’s concerned voice asked. Holding her in his arms, he massaged her arms and her back, comforting her. Through chest-jerking sobs, she managed to huff out a few words. “The children. They’re running upstairs.”

“What children? Do you have kids over? I don’t hear anything.” Eric glanced around the hallway and then gave Tandie an expectant look.

If humans were able to start fires with their skin, then she was certain that her heated embarrassment would’ve burned them both at that moment.

Tandie trudged back through the doorway, past her study, and stopped at the stairwell. All was quiet now that
Aida’s
singers had just finished singing their last note.

“They were right up there. I know I’m not losing it.”

“I can’t help unless you tell me what this God-forsaken place has done now.” He stalked toward the stairway and glanced upward, a disgusted expression on his handsome face.

Tandie studied Eric with curiosity. “What do you mean by ‘what has it done now’?”

“No one stays here, Tandie. This place goes through tenants like an oil rigger changes work boots. Let me go check around upstairs and then we can hash things out.” He started toward the stairway.

“You knew that all along? You could’ve warned me, you know.” And Saul Chelby had to have known his old house was haunted. Yet, he never said a word. She made another mental note to call him first thing in the morning.

“I’m sorry. Things tend to slip my mind when I want to avoid scaring my new clients to death,” Eric said.

“Fine, then. I’m coming with you.” Tandie followed close on his heels.

He glanced back at her. “Maybe that’s not a good idea. You seem pretty spooked. And I’m sure a couple of your little eight-legged friends are hanging around up there.”
Was that a smile creeping across his lips?

“You’re so funny,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on in my own house.”

“If you insist. One thing I’ve learned over the past month: don’t argue with Mets Fans.”

Tandie snorted. “I’m not a Mets fan. Why do people think that anyone who lives in New York is a Mets fan? Besides, I only lived there for eight years, okay?”

“You barely have a southern accent,” Eric said. She could almost hear the laughter in his voice.

“And you hardly have a Hispanic accent; but that doesn’t mean you’re not Spanish. So annoying.”

He stopped and glanced back at her again. “Did you say something else?”

“Nope. Not a word,” Tandie lied.

“Hm. Could’ve sworn I heard you call me annoying.”

She shrugged. At that moment, it didn’t matter what he called her. What did matter was that another living breathing soul was here with her.

Eric and Tandie climbed the stairs. They creaked under the pressure of their double weight. A single set of dirty footprints about the size of a child’s foot began at the top and tracked down the hallway. They ended at the door to the fourth room on the right side of the hallway, the one that she still hadn’t opened.