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She had fainted. Then she slept. Her second night in the
old house was spent on the floor of the attic. Attics being upstairs, as they
are, it was naturally warm enough for relative comfort.
Her close friend, the cat, stayed right beside her. He woke frequently during the dark hours, just opening his green eyes and listening for her breathing. Content, that she merely slept after the initial rush of emotion and fainting, he also slept. He lay near, watchful and golden in the ambient light from the window.
The woman lay on her left side. She wore jeans and some sort of cotton knit tunic in deep blue. Her shoulder length brown hair lay on the board floor somewhat tangled. She wasn’t thin. She gave the impression of physical strength. Her feet were bare, as they usually were indoors.
The sun rose and the attic room filled with light. The cat woke and stretched himself. Then he waited silently.
At last she woke and sat up, sitting cross legged as she had the night before.
“My truck is back, Fred,” she said. “And the town. It’s there too!”
The cat gazed out of the little window with a look of approval. He purred loudly.
“Was that real?” Terry asked Fred.
“I heard that knocking on the door too,” said Fred. “That sounded real.”
“Sure sounded real to me too, Fred. If that was a dream, it was a doozy!” She laughed a little wryly and yawned.
“I reckon we better head on downstairs, see if the power is back on and make some breakfast. I think I need to go see that cop again, Fred. He is the only human in this town I know to talk to, and he has to put up with me because he’s a public servant!” Terry said.
“You want me to talk sense to him, Terry,” Fred said.
“No way! Never you mind, Fred!”
The second floor looked pleasant, full of morning light.
The main floor didn’t look haunted either. The power was on. Once again the kitchen window facing east was full of brilliant light. The storm of the night before seemed vague and unreal to Terry now. She almost forgot about it.
First she made coffee. While it was brewing, she was in a somewhat jolly mood, so she made French toast, which they had with butter and strawberry jam. Fred had lots of butter but no jam. She cut his French toast up into little cubes for him.
“I need to buy a washer and dryer, don’t I?”
“Well, you wear clothes, so I guess so,” said Fred. “When this place was last inhabited maybe they did it some other way.”
“No, you’re talking about a hundred years ago, Fred. They must have gotten rid of the old set when they cleaned this place out,” said Terry.
“I’m going to get cleaned up, then we have some business to attend to, Fred.”
An hour later, dishes washed, showered and ready, Terry said, “OK, dude, let’s hit that big old paved road out there. I want to talk to Officer Mike and borrow his phone for minute.”
“Meow,” said Fred. It was his idea of a joke.
Fred hopped into his truck box, Terry started the engine, and they rode companionably out onto Main and headed up to the police station. Mike’s SUV was parked out of the sunlight around the side of the building again.
He was sitting at his desk poking at a laptop computer and looking bored.
“Good morning, Ms. Reilly. How can I help you?” he said, agreeably.
“Good morning, Officer! I have questions,” said Terry.
Mike got up and pulled a big oak chair around in front of his desk, and said, “have a seat ma’am, I aim to answer questions. There is damn little going on in Chase today. But I guess that’s probably a good thing, hey?”
“That is probably a matter of opinion,” Terry said enigmatically. “Thanks.”
“Oh. Well. That sounds like it might be interesting,” he said.
Fred had settled down by Terry’s feet.
“So, you bring that cat everywhere?” He laughed. “Just call me Mike. It’s easier.”
“Yeah, call me Terry. Yes, this cat is with me 24/7. He keeps me on the straight and narrow.”
“What do you want to know,” said Mike.
“No. 1, I need to know how to get phone and internet out here. Do you have Starlink or what?”
“No, no, we have T-Mobile here at the office, and it works ok for both. It drops off once in a while, but they all do, don’t they?” he said.
“May I use your phone and call them then?” said Terry.
“Sure,” said Mike, and they did that, and suddenly she had phone service, the equipment for internet would arrive in a couple of days.
“Now, your other question?” He put his hands flat out on his desk top, looking interested.
Terry looked at this young man. He was slight and young, handsome in a very middle American looking way. Blue eyes, dark hair, kind face. While she was noticing, she was wondering what to tell him.
Finally she said, “those roses were not the end of the odd things about my house. Somehow, when exploring the basement yesterday, the door upstairs shut itself and locked me and Fred down there. I managed to break out, by shoving the outside door down there so hard that I broke the lock out of the doorframe, which is quite rotten actually. This was strange enough.
While I was down there, I noticed a strong scent of roses, which makes no sense to me. Does it make sense to you?”
“Well, no,” said Mike, listening.
“I need to talk to someone who knows something about that property,” said Terry.
“Last night we were up in the attic looking out of a small window up there, which I cannot see from outside of the house. That was crazy enough. But while we were looking outside I had some kind of dream or vision in which everything looked like it must have a hundred years ago.
“Is there a librarian who has been around a while, or a historian of the area or someone that you can introduce me to?”
Mike looked at Terry like he was making up his mind about something. He still kind of wondered if she was a nut, harmless or otherwise. On the other hand, it was a very dull day there in Chase, AZ and he didn’t mind a bit of mystery to contend with.
“Yes. Wow. There is someone. I hope she can handle it. Your story is pretty strange. As it happens, I know someone who is an amateur lover of local history, but she is quite old and frail.”
“I bet she knows all about that old house,” Terry said hopefully in answer. “But I don’t want to upset her.”
“All we can do is go see her at her place and approach the subject gently and see how she takes it,” said Mike. “Why don’t you and Mr. Kitty there follow me in your pickup?”
Mike locked up the police office, since no one would be there, and went around the building to get in his vehicle. Terry and Fred climbed back into the pickup prepared to follow him.
“Mr. Kitty?” said Fred.
“You’ll live over it,” said Terry, “Mr. Kitty!”
Mike drove slowly two blocks over on the other side of Main St. He stopped on Sunset St. in front of a little 60s style one story house painted green and surrounded by shade trees. Terry parked behind him.
Out on the sidewalk, Mike said, “her name is Rochelle Hunter. We may as well go knock. I’m sure she’s noticed we’re out here. There are no flies on Mrs. Hunter. She taught school here so long I think she knew my grandparents. Well, maybe not that far back.”
Officer Mike Harald, Terry Reilly and Fred stood together on Mrs. Hunter’s small concrete porch. Mike punched the door bell, and they waited out there in the filtered morning sunlight.
In a moment the door opened, revealing a short elderly lady, with a white updo hairstyle, silver glasses in a chain around her neck, and a cotton print house dress printed with small roses. She looked at them all sharply and said, “good morning, young people and cat. What’s up? I’m dying to know!”
“Mrs. Hunter, this lady is a new resident in our town here. She bought the old Lindel place over on 2nd. She has some questions about the history of the house. I figured you were the person to ask,” said Mike.
Mrs. Hunter laughed out loud. She looked amused, but maybe something else also.
“Come right in kids and cat! I’ll bet she has questions! I just bet she does!”
They all followed her in and Mrs. Hunter shut the door firmly behind them.
Her close friend, the cat, stayed right beside her. He woke frequently during the dark hours, just opening his green eyes and listening for her breathing. Content, that she merely slept after the initial rush of emotion and fainting, he also slept. He lay near, watchful and golden in the ambient light from the window.
The woman lay on her left side. She wore jeans and some sort of cotton knit tunic in deep blue. Her shoulder length brown hair lay on the board floor somewhat tangled. She wasn’t thin. She gave the impression of physical strength. Her feet were bare, as they usually were indoors.
The sun rose and the attic room filled with light. The cat woke and stretched himself. Then he waited silently.
At last she woke and sat up, sitting cross legged as she had the night before.
“My truck is back, Fred,” she said. “And the town. It’s there too!”
The cat gazed out of the little window with a look of approval. He purred loudly.
“Was that real?” Terry asked Fred.
“I heard that knocking on the door too,” said Fred. “That sounded real.”
“Sure sounded real to me too, Fred. If that was a dream, it was a doozy!” She laughed a little wryly and yawned.
“I reckon we better head on downstairs, see if the power is back on and make some breakfast. I think I need to go see that cop again, Fred. He is the only human in this town I know to talk to, and he has to put up with me because he’s a public servant!” Terry said.
“You want me to talk sense to him, Terry,” Fred said.
“No way! Never you mind, Fred!”
The second floor looked pleasant, full of morning light.
The main floor didn’t look haunted either. The power was on. Once again the kitchen window facing east was full of brilliant light. The storm of the night before seemed vague and unreal to Terry now. She almost forgot about it.
First she made coffee. While it was brewing, she was in a somewhat jolly mood, so she made French toast, which they had with butter and strawberry jam. Fred had lots of butter but no jam. She cut his French toast up into little cubes for him.
“I need to buy a washer and dryer, don’t I?”
“Well, you wear clothes, so I guess so,” said Fred. “When this place was last inhabited maybe they did it some other way.”
“No, you’re talking about a hundred years ago, Fred. They must have gotten rid of the old set when they cleaned this place out,” said Terry.
“I’m going to get cleaned up, then we have some business to attend to, Fred.”
An hour later, dishes washed, showered and ready, Terry said, “OK, dude, let’s hit that big old paved road out there. I want to talk to Officer Mike and borrow his phone for minute.”
“Meow,” said Fred. It was his idea of a joke.
Fred hopped into his truck box, Terry started the engine, and they rode companionably out onto Main and headed up to the police station. Mike’s SUV was parked out of the sunlight around the side of the building again.
He was sitting at his desk poking at a laptop computer and looking bored.
“Good morning, Ms. Reilly. How can I help you?” he said, agreeably.
“Good morning, Officer! I have questions,” said Terry.
Mike got up and pulled a big oak chair around in front of his desk, and said, “have a seat ma’am, I aim to answer questions. There is damn little going on in Chase today. But I guess that’s probably a good thing, hey?”
“That is probably a matter of opinion,” Terry said enigmatically. “Thanks.”
“Oh. Well. That sounds like it might be interesting,” he said.
Fred had settled down by Terry’s feet.
“So, you bring that cat everywhere?” He laughed. “Just call me Mike. It’s easier.”
“Yeah, call me Terry. Yes, this cat is with me 24/7. He keeps me on the straight and narrow.”
“What do you want to know,” said Mike.
“No. 1, I need to know how to get phone and internet out here. Do you have Starlink or what?”
“No, no, we have T-Mobile here at the office, and it works ok for both. It drops off once in a while, but they all do, don’t they?” he said.
“May I use your phone and call them then?” said Terry.
“Sure,” said Mike, and they did that, and suddenly she had phone service, the equipment for internet would arrive in a couple of days.
“Now, your other question?” He put his hands flat out on his desk top, looking interested.
Terry looked at this young man. He was slight and young, handsome in a very middle American looking way. Blue eyes, dark hair, kind face. While she was noticing, she was wondering what to tell him.
Finally she said, “those roses were not the end of the odd things about my house. Somehow, when exploring the basement yesterday, the door upstairs shut itself and locked me and Fred down there. I managed to break out, by shoving the outside door down there so hard that I broke the lock out of the doorframe, which is quite rotten actually. This was strange enough.
While I was down there, I noticed a strong scent of roses, which makes no sense to me. Does it make sense to you?”
“Well, no,” said Mike, listening.
“I need to talk to someone who knows something about that property,” said Terry.
“Last night we were up in the attic looking out of a small window up there, which I cannot see from outside of the house. That was crazy enough. But while we were looking outside I had some kind of dream or vision in which everything looked like it must have a hundred years ago.
“Is there a librarian who has been around a while, or a historian of the area or someone that you can introduce me to?”
Mike looked at Terry like he was making up his mind about something. He still kind of wondered if she was a nut, harmless or otherwise. On the other hand, it was a very dull day there in Chase, AZ and he didn’t mind a bit of mystery to contend with.
“Yes. Wow. There is someone. I hope she can handle it. Your story is pretty strange. As it happens, I know someone who is an amateur lover of local history, but she is quite old and frail.”
“I bet she knows all about that old house,” Terry said hopefully in answer. “But I don’t want to upset her.”
“All we can do is go see her at her place and approach the subject gently and see how she takes it,” said Mike. “Why don’t you and Mr. Kitty there follow me in your pickup?”
Mike locked up the police office, since no one would be there, and went around the building to get in his vehicle. Terry and Fred climbed back into the pickup prepared to follow him.
“Mr. Kitty?” said Fred.
“You’ll live over it,” said Terry, “Mr. Kitty!”
Mike drove slowly two blocks over on the other side of Main St. He stopped on Sunset St. in front of a little 60s style one story house painted green and surrounded by shade trees. Terry parked behind him.
Out on the sidewalk, Mike said, “her name is Rochelle Hunter. We may as well go knock. I’m sure she’s noticed we’re out here. There are no flies on Mrs. Hunter. She taught school here so long I think she knew my grandparents. Well, maybe not that far back.”
Officer Mike Harald, Terry Reilly and Fred stood together on Mrs. Hunter’s small concrete porch. Mike punched the door bell, and they waited out there in the filtered morning sunlight.
In a moment the door opened, revealing a short elderly lady, with a white updo hairstyle, silver glasses in a chain around her neck, and a cotton print house dress printed with small roses. She looked at them all sharply and said, “good morning, young people and cat. What’s up? I’m dying to know!”
“Mrs. Hunter, this lady is a new resident in our town here. She bought the old Lindel place over on 2nd. She has some questions about the history of the house. I figured you were the person to ask,” said Mike.
Mrs. Hunter laughed out loud. She looked amused, but maybe something else also.
“Come right in kids and cat! I’ll bet she has questions! I just bet she does!”
They all followed her in and Mrs. Hunter shut the door firmly behind them.
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