Fourteen Days(29)

Richard sat, still battling with the absurdity of the whole situation. To him it all seemed so unbelievable, so surreal, yet something was happening to him. Something extraordinary. Something he thought he would never have to deal with.

“This all may take time,” she said. “It won’t happen overnight. Spirits are just like us, they need time to learn things. It may have taken her months, maybe even years, to move Nicky’s car keys, or to make the smoke alarm go off. Everything in life is a learnisng curve—including the afterlife.”

“Why me? How come I’m the one who keeps seeing her? Why not Nicky? She’s spent more time in this house alone than me.”

“Because Nicky refuses to believe in anything ‘supernatural’. She’s a total skeptic. Spirits are usually attracted to people with open minds, like children, the elderly, even animals. So for whatever reason—whether it’s the fact that you’re stuck all alone in the house or that the stress from work has done something to you—your mind was open to seeing her. And now she feels a connection to you. And the fact that she’s made contact with you through your dreams suggests that she’s found a way to speak to you. Perhaps next time she’ll be able to communicate more clearly, instead of in riddles. To her, maybe speaking to you is like trying to speak to an animal or even a baby—near impossible. Does that make sense at all?”

“Yes. At least I think it does. I just wait for her to make the next move. And then see what she wants from me.”

“That’s right. Keep it simple. And try to stay calm. She may be just as afraid as you.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, right. I doubt that very much.”

Getting up from the couch, Karen exhaled. “Right. I best get off now. Got a client in town in half an hour.” Richard also got up. “Are you going to be all right on your own?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. I feel much better now. This helped a lot. It’s a weird feeling thinking about the afterlife.” He smiled. “It’s nice—reassuring.” He followed her out into the hallway. “Just hope I don’t end up like Mrs. Rees.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I’m sure of it.”

Handing back her damp coat, he led her to the front door. “Thanks for everything, Karen.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him, standing in the doorway. “If there’s anything else you need, don’t be afraid to call me. Any time. All right?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I feel a bit bad taking up your time.”

She smiled. “Are you kidding me? I love talking about ghosts. I thrive on it. You can ask me anything. Nicky isn’t going to help you, is she?”

“No, not one bit,” he replied.

Karen stepped back out into the pouring rain and left, leaving him alone to deal with his problem.

He closed the front door. He felt a lot better about his situation. Karen had eased some of the stress that was plaguing him. Richard now had an ally, someone who believed him, who understood what he was going through. Having someone to talk to was enough to alleviate some of the tension. Some of the fear. When it came to TSH, Richard always liked to find solutions to problems, refusing to brush difficulties under the carpet. And right now he had a big problem. Karen was the help he desperately needed. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers, a fixed solution as such, but she certainly had a plan of attack.

A way to actively get this unwanted guest out of his house.

But then the loneliness of the house began to creep in again as the silence echoed along the hallway.

And there was the kitchen, directly in front of him—his Everest, waiting to be climbed.

He couldn’t live like this. He had to put an end to her reign over the house. His house. Going back to work next week was only going to temporarily solve the problem. He would still have something not-of-this-world dwelling in his house, waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to be alone. No, it was time he sent Mrs. Rees packing. She had her time on earth and now it was his. Simple as that.

He marched down the hallway and into the kitchen. Standing next to the counter, he gazed intensely at the dreaded chair, feeling like an animal fixed on its prey, fists clenched tightly. “Come on, Mrs. Rees,” he muttered, “come out and show yourself. I’m not afraid of you.” He waited for some kind of response, deep down knowing that it was never going to be that easy. He could feel his heart pound against his chest as he struggled to hold back his heavy, terrified breathing. “Where are you Mrs. Rees? I just want to talk to you.”