Willow House Chapter 23

 

To begin at chapter one click here

Girls’ Meeting

      It's Wednesday afternoon. Tommy is napping, and Daleni and the M&Ms are at my kitchen table with Trudy and me. Trudy is okay. I like her, but she doesn’t do much. I’ve been changing Tommy’s diapers and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day. I refuse to cook a grilled cheese while Trudy’s getting paid for it. At least I’m not fixing lunch for her. She doesn’t eat. She just sits around and listens to music on the classical radio station. I know she’s Mrs. Hallovich’s great-niece, but . . . she’s a little strange.  

     I haven’t told my parents any of that, because I’m so happy she’s talking to my friends. She’s telling them everything she told me and then some. Nothing weird is going on at Willow House. She’s been going there all her life, and she’s never seen a ghost, or had anything happen that couldn’t be explained. She also talks really nice about Mrs. Hallovich. She obviously loves her great aunt, and that makes me like her enough to let her keep the paycheck that should be mine.  

     Melanie reaches for an Oreo cookie from a plate that sits in the middle of the table. It’s a plate of snacks I prepared while Trudy listened to classical music.  

     “How do you explain the rocker on the front porch that always rocks with no one in it?” asks Melanie.

      “That has been a family joke for years,” she responds. “The porch slopes a tiny bit right there and it only takes the slightest breeze to set if off.”

      None of us know how to argue with that.

      Mandy pipes in with her own question. “The thing that creeped me out the most was the dollhouse curtains blowing and that sister-doll thing.”

     “Old houses are drafty. As for the sister-doll, I think Ella simply forgot where she had placed it, and her imagination got the best of her.” Trudy challenges me with her eyes to say anything more.

     The four of them look at me, and all I can do is shrug my shoulders. It’s not like I can argue with Trudy when she’s helping me convince them to come. I know what I saw, I know what I heard, I know what I felt. She’s making me second guess everything. If this is going to work, though, I have to play along. 

     “She’s probably right. I guess it was my imagination.” 

     That didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth. It kind of felt like a lie. 

     Everyone is still looking at me; Trudy with satisfaction, Melanie with disgust, Mandy with disappointment, and Daleni with sympathy.

     “So . . . ” Trudy says. “Are you girls in? Will you go to the tea party?”

     “I’m in,” Mandy is quick to respond. “I was going to go anyway, but . . . thanks, Trudy. You made me feel better about it.”

     “I’ll come too,” Melanie says. That’s all Melanie says.

     “Good! That’s settled.” Trudy starts to stand then adds, “and Ella, don’t forget to bring Tommy. I can keep an eye on him while you girls enjoy yourselves.”

     “Sure.” I say, but for some reason the idea of Trudy alone with Tommy makes my insides tighten up a little.

     The next two days go by well enough. Trudy isn’t kidding when she says she’s not a touchy person. Tommy adores her even though she never picks him up or cuddles him like Mrs. Hallovich did. She plays board games with me in the afternoons while Tommy naps, but doesn’t even accept a handshake when I let her win.

    Trudy did me a big favor by talking to the girls, but I’m still uncomfortable about her. She didn’t explain everything, and some of the things she did explain just don’t seem like the complete truth. There seems to be a lot of half-truths going around this summer.

     I have to come clean with Daleni. She has a good head on her shoulders, and I’m hoping that, between the two of us, we can get things figured out.

For next chapter click here

Willow House Chapter 22

To begin at chapter one click here

 Trudy

      It’s Monday morning. I’ve been awake since the telephone rang at 6:30. For over an hour I’ve been lying here listening to my parents run up and down the stairs. Doors open and close, and one of them gets in the car and leaves. Something is going on, but I don’t even care. I’m grieving the loss of Mrs. Hallovich’s scones.

     At 8:00 my mom peeks in my door, still wearing her bathrobe.

     “Good morning, Sweetheart,” she says.

     “Morning, Mom.”

     She comes over to kiss my forehead and sits next to me on the bed.

     “There’s been a small change of plans.”

     Could it be . . . ? I think hopefully to myself. I hold my breath.

     “Heather called this morning and she seems to have come down with a bad, summer cold and doesn’t want to make you guys sick.”

      “So we’re going to Willow House?!” This is fantastic! I’m already out of bed and getting dressed before she can answer.

     “Well . . . no.”

     I stop dressing.

     “Dad went over there this morning to see if Mrs. Hallovich would mind keeping the two of you for another week, but her great-niece met him at the door and offered to come here.”

     I’m confused. “What great-niece?”

     “Her name is Trudy. She looks like she’s about Heather’s age. She must be the daughter of that nephew who’s helping fix up Willow House.”

      I’m nodding my head, trying to process it all. She’s the daughter of the nephew I’ve never seen.

     “When will she be here?” I ask.

     “She’s downstairs with Tommy now. You can get dressed and join them. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

     I find them both in the kitchen. Tommy is in his highchair with a pile of dry, but soggy, Corn Pops and a sippy cup full of milk. He’s babbling away to Mrs. Hallovich’s great-niece who’s sitting in the seat beside him. She smiles up at me and says, “Hi, Ella. I’m Trudy.”

     “Hi.” I grab a clean bowl and spoon, plop myself on the other side of Tommy, and reach for the cereal box. “I’m missing Mrs. Hallovich’s baking this morning,” I say, to start some conversation.

     Trudy smiles and nods. “She’s an excellent cook.”

     “How are you this morning?” I say to Tommy.

     “Today!” he says. 

     “You can help yourself to the cereal,” I say to Trudy.

     “No thanks, I ate before I came over.”

      Probably scones, I think with a stab of jealousy. “How come I haven’t seen you at Willow House?”

     “I go over with my dad sometimes in the evening to help out. I’m usually not there during the day.”

     “How many people are working over there?” I ask. I’m still trying to solve the mysteries.

     “Enough,” is all she says. She leans toward Tommy. “I can’t get over how much he looks like my aunt’s son Henry.”

     “I thought so too.”

     Her eyes flash to me. “How do you know what Henry looks like?”

     “There’s a photo in Mrs. Hallovich’s locket and one by her bed.”

     “So, you’ve seen Gertrude as well?”

     “Yes. She was really cute too.”

     Trudy gives me a big smile and nods. “I was named after her.”

     I must look confused because she explains, “Trudy is short for Gertrude.”

     “Oh! Like Frank is short for Francis!”

     “Exactly!” she says.

     Mom comes downstairs all dressed and ready for work. She spends a few minutes going over things with Trudy and tells her to make herself at home. She gives Tommy and me a kiss and then, she’s gone, and it’s just the three of us. 

     “So, how was your week at Willow House?” Trudy’s eyes are green and intense and trying to look into my deepest thoughts. It reminds me of someone else we all know.

     I start talking and feel like I can’t stop. I end up telling her about the girl in the boat.

     “Did you get a good look at her?”

     “Not really. She was a little too far away.”

     Trudy nods. “I bet that was Sarah McGlinchey. Her family lives on the other side of the pond. “Aunt Winnie lets them take their family boat out on it.”

     “Aunt Winnie?”

     “Yeah. Her real name is Gwendolyn but the family has always called her Winnie.”

     I’m staring back, wondering why Mrs. Hallovich didn’t tell me her name was also Winnie, when I told her my grandma’s name. Trudy must think I don’t understand because she continues, “like Gertrude and Trudy, Francis and Frank.”

     That annoys me. “I get it,” I say kind of rudely. But, I don’t want to offend Trudy. She might be able to clear up some of the mysteries.

     I tell her about that weird piano lesson I heard.     

     “Oh! That was me! I wasn’t sure where Aunt Winnie was, and there was Tommy all alone in the big house. I played with him a while until I heard you guys come in and I knew he was safe.” 

     I tell her about the footsteps I heard over my head when I was in the kitchen that first day. 

     “Yeah. That was probably me too. I don’t think Aunt Winnie knew I was there.”

     Maybe I do have an overactive imagination. But, didn’t she just tell me that she wasn’t usually there during the day? Are the mysteries in the house so easily explainable; just coincidences. But . . . that would mean . . . there’s nothing that my friends have to be afraid of!

      I tell Trudy about the invitations to the tea party and the pickle I’ve gotten myself into.

     “Do you think I could help convince them to go?” she asks.

     “You would do that for me?!”

     “Sure I would. Invite them over. I’ll talk to them.”

     I’m so happy, I could explode! “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

     “No problem. They will love the party, and there’s really no need at all for them to feel uncomfortable in Willow House.”

     “You’re the best!” I jump up to give her a hug, but she puts up her hands.

     “No offense, Ella. But, I’m not a touchy person.”

     My feelings are a little hurt, but I get it. There’s a kid in my class who doesn’t like to be touched either. He’s a nice guy though, and we all respect his space.

     I act casual. “That’s cool,” I say.

     She gives me a big smile. “If you don’t mind, I think Tommy needs his diaper changed. I’ll be in the living room.”

      What? Since when do babysitter’s not change diapers? This is not okay. If I end up making grilled cheese or calling 9-1-1, I’ll be really mad.

For next chapter click here

Willow House Chapter 21

To begin at chapter one click here

 Not the Best Sleepover Ever

       I was the first to arrive at Daleni’s house, but I didn’t work up the nerve to talk to her about Mrs. Hallovich’s invitation before the M&Ms arrived.

     Daleni’s parents have cooked up a load of tapas, (tapas are Spanish appetizers) and they’ve set up their back patio with tiki torches and strings of lights. For a while the four of us just talk about how wonderful the food is. Then we move on to how nice it will be not to have to deal with Mrs. Haines for English next year, and how we all can’t wait to have Mr. Armstrong for science.

     Everything’s great until Daleni says, out of nowhere, “Ella, why don’t you tell Mandy and Melanie about the invitations.”

     Talk about throwing a friend under the bus! I glare at her but she’s looking back at me with total support. Like she’s just trying to help me get it over with.

     “What invitations?” Mandy asks.

     I guess there’s no time like the present. I go to my overnight bag, just inside the patio door, and pull out three cream colored, end-of-life-as-I-know-it, envelopes. I return to the table and pass them out.

     “Mrs. Hallovich is inviting us all to a tea party a week from tomorrow.”

     Melanie shoots me a look that could slice through metal. They all open their invitations.

     “Is this a joke?” she asks. Daleni asked the same question last night, but she sounded nicer about it.

     “No.” I shake my head and prepare to make a quick explanation, but Melanie is faster.

     “You want us to go to a party at a haunted house? A tea party thrown by a witch?!”

     Ouch! That pushed a couple of my buttons.

     “Mrs. Hallovich is not a witch!” I shout. “She just happens to live in a haunted house.”

     Daleni’s eyes are popping out a little.

     “But you still want us to go to a party at a haunted house?” Mandy is asking in a way that sounds like she’s trying to be nice. I get it. I would be freaking out too if one of them had given me the same invitation a week ago.

     I calm myself down a little. “The tea party is going to be outside,” (I hope). “You guys won’t even have to go inside the house. The backyard is really pretty and there’s a greenhouse that you won’t believe!” I’m about to go on about all the plants, and Hubert, when I remember the giant fish that looked a lot like a girl from a haunted boat. I decide to shut up about the greenhouse.

     “We can play croquet too! Mrs. H. taught me how on Wednesday.”

     “Mrs. H. is it?” This from Melanie.

     I nod my head and start to relax.

     “She taught you a game for 80-year-old grandmas, and you want us to play?”

     So much for relaxing. I turn to Mandy. “It was a lot of fun,” I tell her.

     Daleni is looking at me like she wants to help but doesn’t know how. Of course she doesn’t know how. That’s my fault. I should have been sharing more with her.

     Daleni’s dad steps out of the patio door. “Who’s ready for la música?” he calls out, clapping his hands together. I wonder how much he heard and if he’s helping his daughter avoid a party meltdown.

     “We’re ready!” Daleni shouts back to him. “Ella, help me move the chairs out of the way!”

      We all clear a dance floor and crank up some Spanish music. Daleni’s parents get things going by showing off their mad, dance skills. After a minute they pull us girls onto the floor and help us get our hips moving and our feet salsa-ing.  I know things aren’t over with the tea party drama, but I’m determined to enjoy the moment. And I do. Until I see Melanie dancing. She has loose hips. Of course she does.

     A few hours, and a lot of food and exercise later, Mandy and I sit in Daleni’s room, while she and Melanie are downstairs picking out a board game. Mandy and I are looking everywhere except at each other, until she finally breaks the silence.

     “So, your week at Witch House turned out okay?”

     “Willow House,” I jump to correct her.

     “Sorry. Willow House.”

     She really is trying to be nice.

     “Yes. The week was a lot of fun. I don’t know everything Daleni told you. There was some weird stuff but . . . Mrs. Hallovich is great! And she would never let anything bad happen to us.” I know with my whole heart I’m speaking the truth. “She wouldn’t invite us if she was afraid something bad would happen.”

     “I’ll think about the tea party, Ella. I’m not promising. But, I do promise to think about it.”

     “Thanks, Mandy.” I feel tears creeping up behind my eyes so I turn and pretend I’m interested in the stuffed animals on Daleni’s bed. 

     Melanie and Daleni come back with Monopoly. I have to pass Melanie the dice, and we have to pay each other rent from time to time, but we manage not to make eye contact until 3:00 in the morning. By now, both Mandy and Daleni are snoozing away. They lost all their money over an hour ago.  Mandy turns in her sleep and because we’ve set the game up a little too close to the sleeping bags, it gets knocked over. Houses and hotels fly everywhere.

     “Let’s call it a tie,” Melanie says.

     I have just managed to buy hotels for Boardwalk and Park Place, so of course she wants to call it a tie. I’m too tired to argue. I’m asleep before I feel my face hit the pillow.

For next chapter click here

Willow House Chapter 20

To start at chapter one click here

 Not in a Party Mood

      “Ella, that’s impossible. The house was built before the turn of the century. That would make Mrs. Hallovich . . . “ Mom stops and calculates, “ nearly 130 years old.”

     “Yes. I already did the math.” 

     I’ve just given Mom and Dad a brief summary of some of the story Mrs. H. told me about Willow House.

     “You know that just can’t be true. Right?” Mom continues. “She may look good for her age but, even with a stretch of imagination, I wouldn’t put her a day over 70.”

     I don’t know what to think. I want everything to be true. I don’t believe that Mrs. Hallovich would lie. She probably just has the details and the years mixed up. Maybe, though, she really is losing it. This thought makes me sad. Like I’ve just lost someone. I look over at Dad who’s quietly eating his food and listening to our conversation.

     “Don’t let it bother you, Sweetheart. She’s probably just confused about the details, . . .  and the years.”

     Is Dad reading my mind too? Can anyone just walk up and read my mind?!

     I nod. “Yeah. Maybe I misunderstood some stuff too.” I ask to be excused from the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down for awhile before the party.”

     “I’ll be up to check on you in a little bit,” Dad says.

     I am so confused. I’m sad because that was our last day at Willow House. I’m worried that Mrs. Hallovich is losing her marbles. I’m anxious about the tea party invitations. I’m disgusted with myself for lying to my best friend. I want to crawl into a hole and not come out until school starts again at the end of August. My life is terrible. How am I going to face my friends tonight?

     A few tears sneak out and run down the side of my nose. A few others follow. Tears scurry down my face.

     There’s a knock at the door.

     I sniffle as much of the tears up my nose as I can, and wipe my face with my moose’s ear.

     “Come in,” I say.

     I know Dad can tell I’ve been crying. Sometimes I watch myself cry in the mirror. My nose gets bigger and turns red. There’s no hiding that. He sits down on the bed next to me and pulls me into a hug.

     “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Dad asks. “I know you can’t be this upset that Mrs. Hallovich got a little carried away with her story.”

     “It’s not just that,” I say.

     He waits for me to go on, but my words are all stuck in a jam in my throat. There’s too many of them and they can’t decide who’s first, so they’re just clogged up. I have been such an idiot lately. All I can do is shake my head and start to cry again. Not even Dad can help me now.

     Dad grabs a tissue from my nightstand and holds me close for a while. He lets me cry until I’m pretty much cried out.

     “You are going to go and have a good time with your friends tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow morning, I promise you, things will not look so bad.” Dad stands up and faces me. “Your face is a different story.”  

    It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about my big red nose and the scratch on my face, and not any unappealing facial features. This makes me laugh a little. No one can make me feel better like my dad can.

     He lays his hands on my shoulders. “If you decide you want to talk about something, you know where to find me.”

     I’m still sniffling a little but at least now I can smile. “Thanks.” 

     He turns to go.

     “Dad?” I say.

     He turns back around.

     “Why did you move us here?”      

     “Where did that come from? I thought you loved it here.”

     Truth is, I did love it here, until I messed things up. Once again my words aren’t sure who wants to come out. I think Dad knows I just want his company for a little while longer, so he sits back down beside me.

     “I moved us here on the advice of my Grandpa.”

     “Grandpa Frank.” 

     “Yes. Grandpa Frank.”

     I’ve heard this story before, but I’m in the mood for hearing stories. I tell Dad to go on.

     “I never knew much about my Grandpa’s past,” he started. “I spent a lot of time with him, but he didn’t really share much about his childhood, and since I was a kid, I never thought to ask. I don’t even know when he was born.” My dad stops and looks at me. “You know, now that I think of it, your great-grandpa had to have been pretty doggone old. Maybe there’s something in the water here. Maybe Mrs. Hallovich really is 130.” He laughs at his own joke, but when he sees that I’m not laughing, he stops. “Too soon?” he asks. 

     I nod, and he moves on.

     “When he got sick a few years ago, I spent his last days in the hospital with him. There was nothing to do except talk, so I started asking him questions. I found out that he came from Saint Clair, and even though he didn’t share a lot of personal stuff about living here, he told me enough about the town itself to get me interested. It sounded like a great spot to get my landscaping business off the ground, so I came to see it for myself. He was right. I loved it when I saw it! It’s a beautiful town.”

     Dad looks down at me. “You are happy here, aren’t you?”

    “Yes,” I say. That’s the truth.

     “Good. Now, why don’t you splash some water on your face, put on a fresh bandage, maybe one with sparkles, and get ready for the sleepover. You’re going to have a fantastic time. And you’ve still got a whole summer to look forward to.”

     I was thinking the opposite. The summer seemed like it was never gonna end.

For next chapter click here

Willow House Chapter 19

 

To start at chapter one click here

Love at First Sight

     “Where did we leave off, Ella?” 

     It seems like it took forever to get out here to the porch. I was hoping that Mrs. H. wasn’t going to ask me to return to the greenhouse for our shoes.Thankfully, she did it herself. From where I sit by the front window, I can see Tommy snoozing away in the study. We’re in the home stretch of our last minutes here, and it’s ridiculous how much unfinished business there is, but at least I’m going to hear the end of the story Mrs. H. started.

     “We left off with how life took over while Lep was busy making plans.”

     “Oh, right. Before we start would you like me to get us a beverage?”

     “No! I’m fine. Get to the story!”

     She’s teasing me, but we’re running late, and my mom is picking us up early. For our last day Mrs. H. served a small cake for dessert. It was just like a birthday cake in miniature, with our names on top and a willow branch design down the sides. Yesterday, I would have appreciated those decorations more. Today they gave me the heebie jeebies. 

     “The thing that happened was me.”

     “What?”

     “Me. I’m the thing that happened while Lep was busy making plans.”

     “What does that even mean?”

     “I had been at my aunt’s for the summer. I was 21 years old and was just returning home as Lep was planning to leave.

     “I don’t get it.”

     “I’ll never forget stepping down from the carriage, the very same one that’s in the carriage house now. My mother ran down the walk and threw her arms around me. My father was just a step behind. The three of us stood there hugging, and crying, and laughing. It had been four months, and we were thrilled to be back together.”

     Mrs. Hallovich pauses for a minute. She’s smiling, and it’s like her eyes are focused on a movie that I can’t see. She continues.

     “As I blinked the moisture from my eyes, I saw him. He was standing behind my father. His hair was dark and he wore it just a bit longer than was fashionable, so it curled where it met his collar. His eyes were the color of honey. He was looking straight at me, and Ella, he was so handsome. We spoke of it later and agreed that it was like being struck by lightning.”

     “What are you saying?” But, I think I already know. It was like when I first saw the dollhouse.

     “Love at first sight, Dear.”

     Yep. That’s what I thought.

     “My father saw it happen, and I could see he was not pleased. He introduced us quickly and ushered Sam away.”

     “Wait a minute. Sam?!”

     “Yes. Sam. Lep was the nickname his gypsy family gave him.”

     Wow! I didn’t see see that coming either! So much for my detective skills.

     “My mother had also seen what passed between us, and I believe she was even more upset than Father.”

     William ushered Sam into his study. 

     “I guess you’ll be leaving soon,” he started. “I’m wondering if there is anything I can do to . . . uh . . . help you, in any way, to begin your next journey.”

     Sam was still reeling from the sight of Gwendolyn exiting the carriage.

     “I can’t believe that’s your Gwendolyn,” he said, ignoring William’s words.

     William took a deep breath, steadying himself and nodded.

     “She’s beautiful.”

     “She takes after her mother,” William said. He tried once more to distract Sam from the subject of his daughter. “Now, about your departure . . . “

     “Would you give me the honor of escorting your daughter to town? Perhaps to dinner?”

     There it was. What was William to do? Sam was his dearest old friend (old being an accurate word). He loved and respected Sam, but there were things about him that he didn’t know; things perhaps, that he didn’t want to know. William also understood that he might be agreeing to more than one simple dinner date.

      “Lep, though you don’t look a day over 30, you are a man nearing 50 years old. Compared to you, my Gwendolyn is a child.” William faltered. Fearing he was about to cross a line over which he may not be able to return, he plunged forward.  “No. You may not take Gwendolyn to dinner.”

     A darkness descended over Sam’s features.

     “I’m good enough to dig in your dirt, but not good enough for your daughter?”

     William’s own words from the past flew back at him like a slap in the face.

     “That was a long time ago. Things are different. You are different.”

     “I’ll leave tomorrow,” Sam said. He turned to go.

     “Lep, please! I’m so sorry. Try to understand!”

     The study door slammed shut. The frame holding the postcards of Sam’s travels fell to the rug below with a thump.

     Sam was good on his word. In the morning, William found the apartment over the carriage house empty. There was no sign that his friend had stayed there. William left the apartment and took a walk to the greenhouse: a masterpiece of a structure. It captured the morning sun, and reflected so much sky and green surroundings that it nearly disappeared. He felt the loss of his friend like a kick to the stomach. 

     William was sure, however, that he had done the right thing. He had a daughter to protect, though what he was protecting her from was unclear. 

     He carried on across the clearing and down the slope to the pond. He took in Lep’s handiwork here as well. Willow saplings, 28 of them, surrounded the water. They were young and stood straight. The characteristic ‘weeping’ of the branches would begin next summer. It would be a glorious sight.

     He heard a noise and turned to see his wife rushing toward him. Something was wrong.

     “What is it, Dear? What’s happened?”

     “It’s Gwendolyn,” Harriet said. She could barely get the words out.

     “What about Gwendolyn? Darling! What is it?!”

     William had turned her about and was ushering her back toward their house.

     “She’s gone.”

     William stopped short. Harriet crumpled to the ground at his feet. He felt the blood drain from his face and felt his heart as it shattered to pieces. He rested his hand softly on his wife’s head as she sobbed into the earth. William remained immobile for a long while, gazing out across the pond and the young weeping willows.

     “Where’d she go?” I asked. This was better than a movie!

     Mrs. H. looked at me and waited. She gave me a second to come back to earth.

     “Where did you go?” I corrected.

     “I followed Sam of course. I was young, I had just fallen in love, and the combination of those two things is quite dangerous. All rational thought left me.”

     I am blown away by this. I would never leave my family for the dollhouse. “But you’re here now.” I say.

     “Sam and I moved back a few years later, just before my father passed away.” 

     I need to know more, but Mom is pulling into the driveway. I am frustrated and Mrs. H. can read all of the questions spilling out of my eyes. 

     “It will be something for us to look forward to.” She smiles. “And don’t forget, I’ll be seeing you next Saturday for the party.”

     How could I have forgotten the party? I’ll see Daleni and the M&M’s tonight. 

     My brain feels like it’s going to explode right out of my head.

For the next chapter click here