“I mean, he reacted horribly,” Clara pointed out. “He stormed off and it doesn’t sound like he actually said he wasn’t plotting something awful. He didn’t engage with any of your questions. He just got defensive instead.”
“True,” Ezra conceded. “But I’m not sure I directly asked him questions anyway. I felt too bad about the whole thing to interrogate him properly. Felt like I was stepping out of line by bringing it up in the first place.
“Besides, I would probably get a little touchy too if someone suspected me of doing something so awful. I can kind of understand where he’s coming from. It’s not an easy conversation to have. So, it’s difficult to know if he’s upset because he’s guilty and doesn’t like being questioned, or if he’s genuinely innocent and offended. I just feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad. It made sense for you to question him, I think most people would. He shouldn’t have gotten offended by that. He must understand that we have our reasons. The family history looks bad. He doesn’t have reason to be so touchy.”
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter now. He’s gone anyway so it’s not like he can hurt us. At least now I don’t have to try to decide what to do about it.”
“I mean, it’s less likely he can hurt us,” Clara responded. “It’s still a concern though. We’ll still have to be careful. Nathaniel’s angrier now. He has even more reason to hurt us now than ever. He doesn’t have to be working here to cause harm.”
She regretted saying it the second after she did. The worry that overcame Ezra was heartbreaking to see. But she didn’t want to keep things from him anymore. They were in this together. They both had to understand the severity of the situation, and it was severe. This was dangerous.
“It seems like this will never end,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “I love this place, but I’m starting to regret ever buying it. I just want us to feel safe again, stable again.”
“Me too,” Clara admitted. “I… I don’t know what to do anymore.”
They held each other’s hands and looked in each other’s eyes. They mirrored the same exhaustion, the same near-defeat look. They weren’t giving up yet, but they weren’t quite as passionate about all this as they once were either. The turmoil and drama were starting to get to them.
The candlelight flickered. They often ate by candlelight, especially when their lives were extra stressful. They found it to be more romantic, more like their literary heroes. Tonight, it was especially soothing. It brought them together, gave them some much needed warmth.
Until a gust of wind blew the flames out. All the lights in the house went off. Ezra and Clara were left alone in darkness. Their hearts pounded as Ezra recalled the earlier conversation and worried that he waited too long to fire Nathaniel. He worried he had made a horrible mistake in hiring him. A deadly mistake.
37
“Ezra,” Clara whispered. They were still holding hands, but she needed to hear him. She needed some sort of familiarity in this world that had become terrifying lately. It would be different if just the electricity had gone out, or just the candles had gone out. But both at the same time…
“I’m here,” he assured her. “It’s probably just a storm.” But he was whispering too and anxiously looking around the room. If Nathaniel were trying to sneak up on them, he’d be effective. Neither of them could see a thing. Neither of them was going to ask how a storm outside affected the candles in the dining room.
“Do you have the lighter close to you?” Clara asked.
“I think so. Let’s see if we can find it.”
They hesitantly dropped each other’s hands so they could feel around the table for the lighter. It was slow going. They didn’t want to dip their fingers in their food. But finally, Ezra’s fingers clasped something familiar.
“Got it,” he whispered.
“Wait!” a voice called out.
They looked towards the sound of the voice and froze. Standing in front of their table was a little girl with light brown curls and blue eyes. She was pale. No, she was more than pale. She was translucent, and they knew what that meant even before they could acknowledge it. This type of thing couldn’t be happening. Everything they’d ever heard told them it wasn’t real.
“We need the light,” the girl explained. “It gives us energy. We still can’t stay for long though, so you better listen.”
“Who are you?” Clara asked, though she knew. She couldn’t accept it, refused to accept it.
“My name’s Olivia,” the girl said, doing a little curtsy.
“Names don’t matter,” a young boy said as he stood next to her. His brown eyes and dark hair made him look a little more solid than his sister. “We don’t have time. You’re in trouble, right Dad?”
A couple came in to join the children. They also looked like they were barely there. Lyla’s long dark, curly hair fell over her blue eyes, but not quite enough to cover the haunting look within them. Richard’s warm, brown eyes were filled with compassion but also sorrow. They all looked desperately sad.
Terror overwhelmed Ezra and Clara, but the sadness was so strong that it made its imprint too. They were terrified, horrified, and filled with incredible empathy for these spirits. They weren’t sure if they should scream, run, or weep.
“I must be dreaming,” Clara whispered. “Ghosts aren’t real. I must be dreaming.”
“I can assure you, you’re not dreaming,” Richard said. “I wish you were. I wish this were all one big nightmare and we were still alive, happy in our home, running our business, and raising our family. But none of this is a dream and we don’t have time to try to convince you it’s not. So, you’re going to have to
