“Have you considered that maybe it wasn’t an accident?” she asked. “Maybe Nathanial turned the burner up on purpose. Maybe he wanted it to burn.”
“On purpose?” Ezra replied. “Why would he do that though? He seemed happy when I offered him the job.”
“I’m sure he was, but he also said he wanted to buy the property but didn’t have the money to. I’m sure that’s caused a bit of bitterness. What if that bitterness led to him wanting to sabotage you a little? Even worse, maybe he’s trying to scare us away so he can buy the house at a cheaper price.”
The thought shocked Ezra but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Nathaniel was the only other person in the kitchen, and he was clearly invested in the property.
“He doesn’t seem the type,” he argued, still reluctant to believe it. “He really seems like a good kid.”
“He very well could be. It wouldn’t be the first time someone hid their true nature though. He could be a good liar. Or he could be a good person generally, but perhaps this brings out his darker nature. He could be thankful for the job while still being upset he wasn’t able to get the property. Upset enough to seek a little revenge.”
Ezra stumbled as his thoughts caught up with him. Clara reached out to steady him, almost going down with him. She caught him at just the right angle though so they both stayed upright.
“That would be concerning,” he said, once he was steady again. “Quite concerning. We’re working in the kitchen together. If he’s that bitter, it could be dangerous.”
They were quiet as they both felt the weight of this. Ezra worried he’d made a huge mistake. One that could put his family at risk, which was the thing he feared most in the entire world.
“We don’t know for sure that’s the case,” Clara said, softening at the distress this thought was clearly bringing upon Ezra. “We don’t want to accuse him of something we don’t have proof of, and we don’t need to worry too much yet. It’s just something to keep an eye out for.”
“I will,” Ezra promised. He still had a good feeling about it. He still thought Nathaniel seemed like a decent guy, but he’d be far more wary now.
“Come on,” Clara said as she took his hand. “Let’s try to forget about that and enjoy the time we have together. You’re doing amazing at skating so far. I’m proud of you.”
“Maybe someday I’ll be even better than you are,” he teased.
“We’ll see about that,” Clara scoffed. She did a flawless figure eight, then joined her husband again. They’d had some trials, but it was tempered by so many good moments that they weren’t disheartened. Yet.
17
The pressure of owning a new bed and breakfast, trying to cope with his father’s death, and being unnerved by the odd things happening was starting to make Ezra restless. Despite the fun evening he had with Clara, the worries returned as soon as he lay in his bed. It took him forever to fall asleep, and he woke less than ten minutes later only to start the process all over again.
By the third time a nightmare woke him, he was incredibly thirsty and stressed. Anxious. He was driven by a strong urge to leave his bed right away. It felt like a trap being stuck here. He couldn’t stay still long enough to rest, and he didn’t feel tired at all.
He decided to get up and go downstairs to avoid waking Clara up. When he worked in Chicago, he would sometimes struggle with a similar problem after rough shifts. He’d be so exhausted from the crazy night yet hyped up from the pressure that his mind wouldn’t allow him to stay asleep. He had a few drink recipes he made for nights like these. So, he went into the kitchen, hoping to find some relief.
He turned on the stove, opting for a golden milk drink made with turmeric. He kept a close eye on the burner this time. He didn’t dare look away for a moment. Despite his rational mind realizing Clara was right, there were no ghosts in the house, a deeper part was still worried. He couldn’t quite get over the strange happenings, though he hoped a bit of sleep might turn that around. If he could manage to get sleep.
Once his milk was ready, he poured it into his favorite mug and brought it into the living room. He turned on the light as he debated if he should start a fire in the fireplace. It could be calming, but he was hoping he wouldn’t be downstairs long enough to enjoy it. Before he could decide, he froze.
It couldn’t be.
His heart pounded as he grew cold, even though he was sweating. His hands shook, mind in shock as he stared at the figure in front of the fireplace. The man leaning against the stones straightened up like he belonged here. Like this was his house.
“Good evening, Ezra,” his father said. “Glad you could finally come to see me.”
“Dad?” Ezra croaked. It was impossible, but there he was. He looked the same as the last time Ezra saw him, with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, steel eyes beneath gold-rimmed glasses, frown lines around his thin, chapped lips. He was rather fit for his age. He tried his best to stay healthy so he could continue caring for his patients. Tall but stooped after all those hours spent bent over the operating table. The only difference was he was a bit more transparent now. It looked like he wasn’t quite fully there.
“Yes,” he said. “You couldn’t have forgotten me already.”
“I just… I thought you were…” He didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know how to process this. “I went to your funeral. Or at least I’m pretty sure I did.” He felt like he was going crazy.
“Yes, a
