“He—hello?” I call out, clearing my throat midway.
My chest is about to burst as I take another couple of steps upward. Flitting my gaze all over the space, I clutch the railing and race up the rest of the stairs, turning to the right to face the woman.
However, as I reach the top landing, I again catch the bottom of her dress as she turns to the left and heads down the hallway that leads to my dad’s room. Without thinking, I race after her. If she’s here to do any harm, or hurt my dad…
When I reach the end of the hallway and turn left, she stands outside the door to his bedroom, staring at it. My footsteps slow down as I make my way closer, but my heart rate continues to pick up. The adrenaline coursing through me makes my limbs shake, but I press myself forward despite it.
“Abigail? You are Abigail, aren’t you? ” I call out. “What do you want?”
The woman turns to look at me, her piercing gaze practically sees straight through me. The moment our eyes lock, there’s no doubt in my mind this woman is my ancestor, Abigail Blackwood. Then, without a word, she again faces the door.
I struggle to take in a cleansing breath, but I walk as close to her as I dare. While she’s dressed in clothing from a completely different era, she looks as real and corporeal as any other person I’ve ever seen. Part of me feels totally validated. She can’t be a ghost. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be transparent or something?
Suddenly, Abigail surges forward, entering my Dad’s bedroom without even opening the door.
A tiny squeak escapes my lips and I stumble backward, clasping my hand over my mouth. Before I have the chance to fully process, I race forward, flinging the door back to warn my dad. When I enter his room, however, I pull up short. While his bed is slightly disheveled, he’s not in it. With the sheer amount of dust in the room, you’d think no one had been in here for ages.
Abigail stands before an ancient-looking, ornate desk. There are tiny little wooden carvings and small pull-out drawers and slots for papers or mail all over it. Down its legs, there are three deeper drawers on either side.
My insides shake and I can’t quite get a grapple around the thought that maybe I was wrong. Maybe ghosts do exist.
Getting up enough courage to walk up beside her, I ask, “What is it you want? Why won’t you talk to me?”
She turns to me, her solemn face unchanging. Raising her right arm, she points at the desk.
My heart races like I’ve just run a marathon, but I force myself to take a step closer.
“What about it? It’s a desk. I shouldn’t even be in—”
Suddenly Abigail raises her hands and the contents of the entire room shake.
I flinch, raising my hands to my face, in case anything goes flying.
“It was you—you broke the vase in my bedroom,” I stammer, as things start to make more sense.
Abigail’s face pinches tight and her jaw clenches. Again, she points to the desk.
“What? What is it? I’m not going to snoop through my dad’s things. That’s just—”
Without anyone touching it, a hidden drawer just under the desktop flies open. There are a few papers, bound in some sort of twine, an old-fashioned looking feather quill, and an adorned bronze handle.
My jaw drops open and I take a step closer. “Is that—?”
My mind is wheeling, but from here, it looks like a fit for the missing handle in my bedroom. Why would my dad have it hidden in a drawer?
“Honey?” Dad says from behind me.
I spin around, pushing the drawer in with my hip.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, surprise and confusion written across his face. He walks over to his bed, eyeing the mess, and returns his gaze to me.
“I was, uh, looking for you. I haven’t seen you all weekend and I was getting worried.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I had to leave on urgent business,” he says, shaking his head. “I should have told you or had James… I’m still not used to checking in with anyone else. It’s been years since I had to think about that sort of thing.”
I hold a hand out in front of me. “No, I get it. I was just hoping to introduce you to Wade.”
Taking a few steps away from the desk, I look over my shoulder. Abigail is gone.
Dad’s forehead crinkles. “Oh, right. You mentioned that. Wow. Sorry, Autumn. I must be getting old. Forgetting stuff left, right, and center.”
“It’s okay. He had to leave, though, so maybe next weekend? His grandpa isn’t doing well. So, I thought I’d…” I bite the side of my cheek, trying to think of why I’d want to come to his bedroom to talk to him. “I’d just make sure you weren’t avoiding him.”
“No, of course not. I’m very excited to meet the new man in your life,” Dad says, smiling.
I smile back, trying to make a graceful exit as I inch closer to the door.
“Well, I guess I should…” I start, jabbing a thumb toward the hallway.
“Sure. Did you want me to have James make you some breakfast?”
“No, it’s okay. I didn’t get much sleep, so I think I’m going to try and go back to bed for a little bit.”
“Sounds good, sweetie. Love you,” he says, nodding.
“Love you, too,” I say absently, walking out of the room and down the hall.
As nice as Dad is, I know there’s a reason Abigail waited to show me the door handle when he wasn’t in his room. He’s obviously hiding it for a reason, and who knows what it is. I don’t want to piss him off or make him think I’ve been snooping in places I shouldn’t. If I ask him about the handle, it could put this good thing we
