Chapter One
Her journey
began there, on a cold, windy day, with an ominous warning of what was to come.
It brought her to a strange, dark place near the edge of the great Lake
Superior. The manor, called Cedar Ridge Hills, rose high atop the hill.
She
grabbed the keys in the box next to the door. At this late hour, no one would
greet her. She was to let herself in and set up her quarters in the western
wing on the second floor past the office area.
Thalia
Jefferies hoped her journey would open the doors of life, and bind her past
with her future. The ornate, French doors unsealed an unfamiliar world with
people she never met, people who were only shadows in her imagination, but
would soon fill her tomorrows.
It
was a dark and frightening place on the crest of a lonely hill. The ghosts of
yesterday cautioned her to leave, but Thalia had arrived, and there was no
turning back.
The
fear of darkness and the unknown was only for the young.
She
walked through the desolate corridors of the mysterious, dusky manor. Thalia
could hear the brooding calls of the dead trembling in its walls, and singed
her unexpressed fears. It was her home now and the outside world fell away into
distant shadows.
There
were homes with warm, welcoming families in Locke Bay, people with hopes and
dreams. Yet, she couldn’t feel anything but the dark night as it pressed its
gloom on her. It crushed against the windows whispering to her, telling her to
escape while she could.
It
was a fitful sleep but, at least, the night was over. It was a night touched
with a fear Thalia had never known before. The gray light of early morning
brought no relief from the heaviness that inhabited the house.
Thalia
was enjoying a cup of coffee when a well-dressed man entered the kitchen area.
“Good
morning.” He put his hand out to shake hers.
She
stood to greet him. “Good morning. Thalia Jefferies, you must be George
Greene?”
“That
I am. Local expert, docent of a little bit of this and that, and way too many stories. Sit, please.
Finish your breakfast. I’ll pour myself a cup and join you.”
She
watched the elderly man as he heated a cinnamon roll and poured coffee into a
cup. He sat across from her. “It’s good to see you’re still here. You lasted
much longer than the last curator we hired.”
“Oh?”
“He
didn’t make it past midnight.”
Thalia
laughed. “Well, it is a bit scary up here at the top of the hill. It’s an odd
and lonely place. I enjoyed the grounds at sunrise this morning. All I could
see was the great hulk of Cedar Ridge towering above the mist, a sleeping
monster on its crest.”
“I
like that, good thing you’ll be helping with the tours. In your email, you said
you wanted to do some deep, ancestral searching. I know a lot of local history,
and would be happy to help.”
“Thank
you. I’m really curious about−”
A
group of people entered and introductions were made. The museum would open
soon. It was reassuring to see the nametags on the employees; she was never
very good at remembering names. Faces, yes. Names? No.
Thalia
hoped and believed the answers she was looking for might be here−for her
father, if not for her own personal curiosity. At the end of each day, she’d
wait in the darkness and search the dust of hidden years, surrounded by ghosts
of the past and shake away the fears of the present.
Thalia
pulled folders out of the filing cabinets, she’d have a lot of work to catch up
on and understand. Normally, the director would train her, but Cedar Ridge
didn’t seem to have one.
She
wondered what happened.
Thalia
started reading notes from the early 1900s when the Locke family moved to
another home away from the cliffs. It’d become a sanatorium for about fifty
years before they closed the doors and an order to demolish was aborted. The
people of Locke Bay, and the historical society saved the beautiful manor.
Whoever
put notes to paper described the dead past with a colorful flourish as they
recorded the history of the family. She could picture them as they drifted
through the corridors of Locke Manor, now known as Cedar Ridge. The pages of
stories settled like dust in its corners. They worried a legacy would be
destroyed, yet spurred by hope, they fought to keep the manor in place.
Her
search continued as life itself continued. Not only for her but also for
everyone else in this strange corner of the world. There was so much history
here. Would she find Albert, her long-lost uncle? Would she be able to release
her father from the haunted memories of two young children in search of family?
Locke
Manor was a sanatorium, a foundling home, hospital, and a place for those whose
devils prowled the hidden hollows of fear. People who lived with their own
trepidations and their own hopes.
It
was of a forgotten time as foundlings and the infirm made their home on the
crest of the hill. The great house echoed with their pain.
It
was a lonely and frightening place. For Thalia, it was a place of hope. It was
a home where the winds of the past would bring the answers to the future.
Patti,
one of the tour guides, walked into her office and leaned against the desk.
“You know, you’ve been here for almost a month. Why don’t you come into town
with us? We’re going to a restaurant on the water. It’s beautiful in the
evening. Something I think you’d like to see.”
Thalia
smiled. “I think I’d like that. Thank you. Sometimes the mysteries of this
place make me feel like it’s reached out and touched me and everyone within its
walls.”
“The
longer you stay, the more it will become a part of you. It’ll feel like it’s
closing in on you.”
“I
think that’s called cabin fever.”
“Yes,
well, you can get it real easy here at Cedar Ridge.”
“I’ll
keep that in mind.”
“Meet
us at six? At the Superior Oyster Bar and Grill.”
Thalia
waved as Patti left the office. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
She
looked around her office. Yes, it’d be easy to get lost in the past. It could
become a prison, not only for her but also for others, and anyone driven by
fear of the future.
Cedar
Ridge sat for over one hundred years in brooding isolation on the crest of its
hill. Thalia looked at the shadows of the manor in her rearview mirror.
She
was afraid, to leave, and to stay. The great house on the hill carried the
dusty smell of fear. The secrets of its past lived within its darkened rooms.
They moved through the paneled rooms and corridors seeping down from the walls.
It
touched the heart of everyone who entered.
∞ ∞
∞
The
group sat around the table and gotten quiet when she’d arrived. It immediately
put Thalia on guard.
Jacob,
the groundskeeper for the museum, pulled out the chair next to him. “Come on.
We were just talking about you.”
“We
want to know why you’ve stayed,” Patti said, before handing her the menu.
“We
sure do,” Janet piped in. “And, how you can stay at the museum with all its
ghosts and legends.”
“It’s
just a house. I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“You
will.” Jacob smiled at the waitress who’d approached the table. “Know what you
want?”
“Yes.”
Patti
grabbed some clam cakes. “Aren’t you scared?”
Thalia
shook her head. “Not really. I mean sometimes it’s a bit spooky.”
Janet
harrumphed, “that’s putting it mildly.”
Patti
flipped her hand outward. “I’ve stayed there at night. It was terrifying. The
night wind battered the hill with the force of a thousand demons. I felt so
alone as if there was no town beyond the crest, only the waves, the wind, and
the terrible loneliness of fear.”
Jacob
laughed. “Can you tell she wants to be an author?”
“It’s
true. The house is surrounded by tension and sometimes it grows so tight, it
chokes you.”
Thalia
was curious. “Why do you work there?”
Patti
pulled her hair up. “The daytime is fine. The nights come alive with ghosts of
the past. You wouldn’t get me near that place at night.”
Thalia
looked at Janet. “What about you. Do you believe in ghosts?”
Janet
chuckled nervously and pointed to her empty wine glass when the waitress came
by. “Don’t forget I lived there for well over a year.”
Jacob
took a drink from his mug. “You should find a place in town. Get out of that
house before it swallows you.”
“Definitely,”
Patti agreed vehemently. She took a bite of her chocolate cake. “Get out now,
while you can.”
∞ ∞ ∞
On the
drive back, Thalia couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth cast at her feet.
The great, dark house on the crest of the hill was alive with ghosts of a past
she never knew. Ghosts that drew tight fingers around the present.
Thalia wasn’t about to let them sway her
determination and would continue her search. There were answers in the dead
past at Cedar Ridge. She knew there was a connection between her father and his
early life. She would learn what happened to his brother, and where he went.
The answers had to be there, somewhere.
She
would find them.
Searching
the dusty corridors on the third floor, the wind howled against the glass
windows. Dark threads of the past tied her to the great house on top of the
hill. Her search was endless as the corridors wound about. Each room echoed
dark voices of fear. Thalia listened to their murmurs and trembled as she
approached the door where the strange voices called.
She
looked about the tattered room with its musty, torn furniture, and broken
lamps.
There
was an odd stillness about the room. Dark voices of fear scolded her in the
upper floors of the great house that was now her home.
She
opened a chest. It had clothing from a bygone time. Nothing to note, nothing to
give her clues to the hidden hollows of the past. She approached a large table,
strewn with assorted items, books, and papers.
Grabbing
a photo album, she carefully opened it. Dust billowed upward and she sneezed.
She
picked up an elaborately decorated fan. She traced the edge. It appeared to be
ivory. She opened it and fanned herself. Smiling, she slipped her finger
through the ring on the end.
The
door slammed behind her. She jumped and dropped her flashlight and the photo
album she was inspecting. Moving toward the door, she grasped the knob. She was
shut in, locked somehow. She banged on the door, knowing it was useless. She
was alone. All had gone home for the night.
A
brewing storm buffeted the walls. There was no sound in the house, nothing but
the echo of thunder and the whine of the rising wind. The emptiness was alive
with an encumbering fear. It was built on a simple, terrifying fact. Thalia was
alone.
She
tried the door again to no avail. She sat on the floor in dismay. The room was
hot and musty. She cooled herself with the ivory, scrimshaw fan until sleep
crept into her tired body.
Thalia
awakened, stiff and sore. The sun streaked muted rays through the covered
windows. She stood and leaned against a bureau, waiting for the dizziness to
pass.
Thalia
inspected the door. The hinge pins were removable. If she could find something
to use to remove them, that’d be a blessing.
Her
eyes scanned the room in the sunlight. It looked different, less threatening
and spooky. She shook her head. No need to go there. The howling wind was bad
enough; she didn’t need her imagination making things worse.
The
early morning mist rose from Lake Superior at the foot of the hill. Angry
spirits out of the dim past seemed to pound against the door, demanding
admission.
Her
heart raced. Something wasn’t quite right.
She
put the fan in her pocket and grabbed the flashlight.
Before
she attempted to take the door off the hinges, she reached for the handle.
The
door swung open.
Here
in the hidden crevices of Cedar Ridge was a moment of quiet, even the wind
subsided, and the threat of a storm was past.
However,
there were other storms to come.
She
grabbed the photo album and quickly left the dark crevices of the third floor.
Relieved the night was done.
“Who
are you and what are you doing here?” the voice of an unfamiliar woman
demanded.
Thalia
slowly turned. “Who are you and how did you get inside the museum?”
The
woman had her hair pulled back so tight her face looked pinched and angry. She
was in odd garb, a long, dark gray skirt and blouse with a functional apron
covering it.
“Your
attire is indecent, showing off your legs like that. There are men here, you
know.”
Thalia
looked down at her dress. It was a conservative sheath dress with a matching
jacket. Quite reasonable for business attire. It was a bit dusty from the room,
but that shouldn’t cause the kind of reaction she was getting from this woman.
Was
this one of the apparitions?
“You
need to change your clothing immediately. Then, I’ll take you to Dr. Huey.”
“Dr.
Huey?”
“Yes,
the man who runs this sanatorium.”
“Sanatorium?”
Thalia stood unmoving, unsure of what she was to do and what was expected.
“Girly,
is there something wrong with you? Stop repeating what I’m saying to you with a
question.”
The
great house sat quietly on its crest and the events unfolding were but a dream,
a nightmarish vision from a shattering night confined in a dusty room. It
couldn’t be real yet, it was almost like a vague memory of a forgotten dream.
Thalia
stopped following the commanding woman. “I’m not moving one more step until you
tell me who you are and how you got here.”
The
woman leaned in closer to her face. “You don’t look like an idiot.”
She
grabbed Thalia’s arm. The woman was surprisingly strong, but Thalia was
definitely stronger. She twisted the woman’s arm, releasing the grip. “Who are
you?”
“My
name is Catherine, and I’m the headmistress of the school.”
“School?”
“Yes.
Where did you think you were?”
This
was no dream. The woman in front of her was real.
Thalia
felt lightheaded. She could feel the heat flush her face and a buzzing in her
ears.
“Girl,
are you well?” The woman grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”
* * *
Purchase The House on Cedar Ridge on Amazon
Also available in Large Print
A note from Pam:
As we were walking through the stories played out in my head. Skies of Blue was inspired a few years back when we toured the Ohio Reformatory. I pictured a live-in curator who needed a new beginning. Then... when the pictures were printed---I saw the orbs and now we have The House on Cedar Ridge Museum Series which I'm in the process of finishing is an extension of Skies of Blue.
It's "scary good!"
Check out my blog on Ohio and the Reformatory
* * *
Bestselling, award-winning author, Pamela Ackerson is a time travelling adventurer. She was born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life. She lives on the Space Coast of Florida where everyone is encouraged to reach for the stars! When it's time to runaway, she's a hop, skip, and jump from Disney World and fun-filled imagination and fantasy. She's a multi-genre author and writes time travel, westerns, Native American, historical fiction, nonfiction, WW2, inspirational, contemporary, self-help marketing and advertising, personal and travel journals, and children's preschool/first reader books.
Visit Pam's web page www.pamelaackerson.net
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Thank you and have a good moments day.
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