The next day I headed to the museum. Miss Coolie didn’t have an office. Simply a small space in the corner of the museum. “Excuse me? Miss Coolie?”
The older woman looked exactly like someone who worked in a museum. Her hair was streaked with grey, twisted up in a bun that had shifted haphazardly on her head. Her clothes all seemed almost two sizes too big and her shoes where the most sensible ones anyone could find. “Can I help you?” She dropped her glasses from her nose and let them hang around her neck on their beaded string.
“I hope so,” I really need to help a ghost. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work. “I’m trying to do some research on the Blachley family. I can’t seem to find anything on them other than the record of them living in the home before donating it.”
She tilted her head slightly, “There isn’t much to tell. They lived there, moved out. Went on with their lives.”
“I see.” Another new approach. “So, did anyone die in the house? Before they moved out?”
She pursed her lips. “And who are you exactly? Doing more stories about ghosts and things that go bump in the night, are you?”
“Oh, not at all, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She looked down at her desk, putting her glasses back on. “I am very busy.”
“I know, and I am so sorry to bother you.” I scrambled for another direction. “Ok, I’ll be honest. I heard some students talking about a girl being killed there, and I just think it is wrong when people make up stories that are untrue.” Maybe that would get her on my side.
She looked over her glasses at me. She sighed, and I hoped that meant she would help me.
“This is why we need a historian. I know budget cuts and all, but the histories of this place are getting turned into folklore.” She dropped her glasses down again, “It wasn’t the Blachley’s who had tragedy in that house. It was the Williams family.”
I looked around for a stool and grabbed the only one on my side of her desk. “The Williams family?” I asked, waiting for her to continue.
She nodded and clucked her tongue. "It is quite tragic, actually. Professor Williams moved from Pennsylvania. He came all the way out here with his pregnant wife and young daughter. They stayed in that home when they arrived here. The college was honored to get such a distinguished professor as him, so they rolled out the red carpet to make him feel welcome. They were to move sixth months after they arrived, allowing them time to either have a home built or find one available. It would also give her enough time to give birth to their next child. She was a beautiful woman, striking blonde hair, and fair skin. If the archives hadn’t been closed and put into storage, I would be able to find the photo.” She waved her hand at an imaginary fly. But boxes in a basement are a better place for those historical artifacts.”
She was getting off topic. “I wish I could see it, was her daughter blonde too?”
She looked back at me, refocused on her story. “Oh yes, the most beautiful little girl. She was three or maybe four when they arrived. The photo shows her too.” Her face turned solemn, “But tragedy hit. When Professor Williams was teaching class on campus, Mrs. Williams took a tumble down the stairs. Professor Williams came home to the little girl crying at the bottom of the stairs.” She shook her head in pity.
“But what happened to the little girl?”
“Oh, that was the rest of the tragedy. The little girl fell ill right after her mother’s death. She died of influenza shortly after. Poor Professor Williams lost his unborn child, his daughter, and his wife within a month. He moved back to Pennsylvania. It isn’t a bright spot in the colleges’ history, tragic sadness doesn’t make for popular histories.”
“Professor Williams and his family were only here for a short time?”
“Just two months.” She put her glasses back on her face, “Barely a blip on the timeline of history here.” She continued with what she had been working on before I arrived.
“Thank you, Miss Coolie, I appreciate you clearing that up. I don’t like it when facts are incorrect.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t even raise her eyes back to look at me as I exited.
As much as I wanted to head straight to Elizabeth, I had more important things to handle. Classes.
Two tests checked off my midterm list. I felt I’d done pretty well. I had a large paper do, that would require some serious hours in the library to get done.
“We can study again, if you want.” Tyler asked as we walked back after dinner.
“Yeah, that is not going to help me get my paper done.”
“But just think of how more relaxed you’ll be.” He shoved me with his shoulder.
I rolled my eyes, “Yes, totally relaxed, focused on failing out of college.”
He laughed as we got to my floor. I was just dumping a bag and heading right back out again.
We were laughing when we came around the corner to my hall. I’d forgotten to prepare myself by lowering my curtain and keeping Brock out.
“WHERE IS SHE????” He yelled. The sound pushed me back, making me stumble. I deduced he had been yelling at me every time I walked past, but I hadn’t been able to hear him.
“Savanah are you ok?” Tyler looked around, trying to see the invisible threat.
I nodded to him and closed my eyes, focusing on closing Brock off again. It took more focus because he was continuing to yell in my face. I exhaled, finally enjoying the
