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Authors: Clare O'Donohue
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time. I had locked the doors, hadn’t I? I couldn’t remember if I had locked up. Every muscle tensed and I froze.
I turned on the bedroom light. If someone was in the house, he’d know that he’d been heard. I threw a pillow at Barney, who raised a sleepy head in my direction.
“Get up,” I whispered. “Go downstairs.”
Barney got up and started wagging his tail. He lay his head on the bed next to me because he clearly believed that I had woken him up to pet him. You had to admire his optimism.
I got up slowly, shaking with each step, and walked to the door of the bedroom. I couldn’t hear anything but wind and rain.
Now I really missed my cell phone. I could walk to my grandmother’s bedroom, where I thought she had a phone, but if I called the police and it was nothing, then everyone in town would be telling the hilarious story tomorrow.
But I couldn’t just stand there shaking all night. My grandmother wouldn’t. I grabbed Barney’s collar and we headed to the top of the stairs. If someone was going to kill me, he was going to kill me standing up. I wasn’t going to be found cowering by my bed so everyone could say “poor thing, first she gets dumped and then she dies alone and scared.” No, they were going to say “poor thing, first she gets dumped and then she dies stupidly fighting off an intruder.”
Barney walked beside me as we slowly descended the stairs. He couldn’t hear what I was listening for, but he knew I was scared, and that was enough for him to stick close. Together we made it into the downstairs hall, turning on every light I could find. My grandmother didn’t have much in the way of weapons, so I grabbed an umbrella out of the stand and walked into the kitchen.
I turned on the light. The back door was open.
The room was empty. Barney walked lazily over to his bowl and started picking at the last of his dinner. Even a deaf dog would sense danger, right?
I grabbed a knife from the counter to replace my pathetic umbrella weapon and slammed the kitchen door shut, locking it tight.
Walking back out into the hallway and toward the living room, I saw no one. I opened all the closets, checked all the doors and windows, turned on all the lights.
Had it just been the wind?
Barney found me standing by the front door and looked at me with sleepy eyes. I knew what he was thinking, and he was right, probably. I had forgotten to lock the kitchen door and a strong wind blew it open. Still, I left the lights on downstairs while Barney and I headed back up.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, a loud car horn woke me before the alarm or Mother Nature had a chance to. I walked over to the window ready to scream at whoever was making that racket. A red-haired woman in jeans and a bright blue sweater stood in the driveway next to a truck with a medicine bottle logo on the side.
“Bernie?” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Hey there, sweetie,” she yelled back. “I brought you breakfast.”
As annoyed as I was by the early morning intrusion, she had brought food, so I lumbered downstairs, followed by an equally sleepy Barney, and let her in.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said as I took the plate of Danishes off her hands.
“Oh, I just did it as an excuse to check on you, dear,” she said, smiling. “Did you sleep okay or did this spooky old house get to you?”
As we sat in the kitchen with Danishes and coffee, I told her about the creepy noises and the total darkness that kept me from getting a good night’s sleep. I did not mention that I had hoped to sleep in a little—a plan she had spoiled.
“I think Eleanor’s crazy to keep this place all by herself, but crazy in a good way, you know?” Bernie laughed heartily. “After my first husband died, I moved into a small apartment with the kids. And after my divorce, I moved in with a friend. Couldn’t live alone in a place like this.”
“How many husbands have you had?” I asked, probably impolitely.
“Three, so
I turned on the bedroom light. If someone was in the house, he’d know that he’d been heard. I threw a pillow at Barney, who raised a sleepy head in my direction.
“Get up,” I whispered. “Go downstairs.”
Barney got up and started wagging his tail. He lay his head on the bed next to me because he clearly believed that I had woken him up to pet him. You had to admire his optimism.
I got up slowly, shaking with each step, and walked to the door of the bedroom. I couldn’t hear anything but wind and rain.
Now I really missed my cell phone. I could walk to my grandmother’s bedroom, where I thought she had a phone, but if I called the police and it was nothing, then everyone in town would be telling the hilarious story tomorrow.
But I couldn’t just stand there shaking all night. My grandmother wouldn’t. I grabbed Barney’s collar and we headed to the top of the stairs. If someone was going to kill me, he was going to kill me standing up. I wasn’t going to be found cowering by my bed so everyone could say “poor thing, first she gets dumped and then she dies alone and scared.” No, they were going to say “poor thing, first she gets dumped and then she dies stupidly fighting off an intruder.”
Barney walked beside me as we slowly descended the stairs. He couldn’t hear what I was listening for, but he knew I was scared, and that was enough for him to stick close. Together we made it into the downstairs hall, turning on every light I could find. My grandmother didn’t have much in the way of weapons, so I grabbed an umbrella out of the stand and walked into the kitchen.
I turned on the light. The back door was open.
The room was empty. Barney walked lazily over to his bowl and started picking at the last of his dinner. Even a deaf dog would sense danger, right?
I grabbed a knife from the counter to replace my pathetic umbrella weapon and slammed the kitchen door shut, locking it tight.
Walking back out into the hallway and toward the living room, I saw no one. I opened all the closets, checked all the doors and windows, turned on all the lights.
Had it just been the wind?
Barney found me standing by the front door and looked at me with sleepy eyes. I knew what he was thinking, and he was right, probably. I had forgotten to lock the kitchen door and a strong wind blew it open. Still, I left the lights on downstairs while Barney and I headed back up.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, a loud car horn woke me before the alarm or Mother Nature had a chance to. I walked over to the window ready to scream at whoever was making that racket. A red-haired woman in jeans and a bright blue sweater stood in the driveway next to a truck with a medicine bottle logo on the side.
“Bernie?” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Hey there, sweetie,” she yelled back. “I brought you breakfast.”
As annoyed as I was by the early morning intrusion, she had brought food, so I lumbered downstairs, followed by an equally sleepy Barney, and let her in.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said as I took the plate of Danishes off her hands.
“Oh, I just did it as an excuse to check on you, dear,” she said, smiling. “Did you sleep okay or did this spooky old house get to you?”
As we sat in the kitchen with Danishes and coffee, I told her about the creepy noises and the total darkness that kept me from getting a good night’s sleep. I did not mention that I had hoped to sleep in a little—a plan she had spoiled.
“I think Eleanor’s crazy to keep this place all by herself, but crazy in a good way, you know?” Bernie laughed heartily. “After my first husband died, I moved into a small apartment with the kids. And after my divorce, I moved in with a friend. Couldn’t live alone in a place like this.”
“How many husbands have you had?” I asked, probably impolitely.
“Three, so
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