Haunted Lover IV

Cissie stood frozen in shock.  Her hands covered her mouth holding back a scream of terror.  Time stood still.  The next flash released Scott from the outlet, the letter opener flying loose with his break from the wall.

Cissie leaned forward to touch him, to see if he was still alive.  A fierce wind whipped around her stopping her movement.

No.  Don’t touch him.  Not yet.

“Cal, let me help him,”  she pleaded with tears streaming down her face..

Don’t risk yourself.  Wait until the next flash passes then you may touch him.

Her mind couldn’t release the sight of him, back bowed , facial muscles rigid, arms and legs askew while he jerked like a live wire coming from the wall outlet.

Sobbing, Cissie searched her pockets for her cell phone.  She didn’t even like Scott but no one deserved this.  His body had settled, lay still on the hard wood floor.  She grabbed a pillow from the settee in the foyer to place under his head.

When Cal finally let her touch the rigid handyman on the floor in front of her, it took a few moments to realize it might be a while before help arrived. She began CPR.  He had no pulse, but she’d heard during her CPR training the most important thing was to keep the blood circulating until help could arrive.  She pushed down in the center of this chest, rapid forceful movements sending the blood from his damaged heart to the limp limbs.  She stopped every two minutes or so to provide what she hoped would be life saving air into his lungs.  Basically she was revolted by the mouth to mouth.  Even though she knew it might be the difference between life and death, she simply didn’t want to go there.  Too much like kissing.  And she would never kiss Scott.  Not in this life or the next.

She continued her lifesaving efforts until she thought her arms would fall off in exhaustion.  Her back ached, she was breathless and the tingles from shoulder to wrist made her believe she’d done the CPR all wrong.

As the flashing lights of the rescue squad barreled up the drive, she finally burst into tears of exhaustion.   Cal enveloped her in a cloud of cool calm.  Don’t cry.  You did everything you could to help him.

She turned as if she would place her head on Cal’s shoulder when she realized he was close to full materialization for the first time in their relationship.

She drew back in shock as the paramedics burst through the front door, flashlight beams dancing over the entryway.

Haunted Lover III

Cal needed to intervene.  But the timing needed to be perfect.


Scott spent the afternoon working on the lighting in the grand entryway.  He knew there was a hidden panel which, once revealed, would present him the treasure he sought. He knew the gold was here, he simply needed to find it.

Before the job ended, which was way too close.

Cissie told him the job would end when the B&B opened–whether he was finished or not.

Normally he’d wouldn’t pay any attention to single women trying to get him to commit to something like that.  He just didn’t do it.  Nobody pushed Scott into commitment.  Nobody.  Except Cissie made him sign a contract.  So once the B&B opened, his was history.  She wouldn’t have any trouble getting someone else out here to work once the public started showing up.

The solitude would only last as long as they were alone.

Scott wanted the job to be done.  This old house was really getting under his skin.  He’d been creeped out several times the past week, constantly feeling as if someone was watching over his shoulder.  And the tools.  That was freaky.  He’d put down a hammer, or wire cutters and when he went to grab them again, just a second or two later, they’d be gone.  He was being toyed with or losing his mind.

Probably not.  Just the stress.

He was anxious to get back into town tonight.  He had more research to do, and he needed to go by the library before it closed.  Besides, the young librarian was fairly hot.  She’d come onto him the last time he’d stopped in there.  Maybe he’d get lucky.

Clouds drifted across the late afternoon sun, causing a shadow to creep across the stairs.  Cold chills fingered their way down his spine and he looked up to find Cissie watching him from the foot of the stairs.

“What are you doing?’ she asked.

“Um, checking out the outlet here.” He pointed to the top of the staircase.  He’d added an outlet so the maid wouldn’t have to plug-in a vacuum in a guest room.

He’d insisted on adding the outlet, easily explained and not on the original plan, so he could search for panels on the staircase.  He’d already exhausted his other options in the attic, basement, dining and kitchen areas.  The great rooms and the reception hall offered no place where hidden panels might conceal the Colonels stash.

“I want you to finish up.  It looks like it’s going to storm and I don’t want you stuck out here all night if the road turn into a mudslide.”

As she turned on her heel to return to the kitchen she dropped the letter opener.

Scott ran down the stairs and grabbing her by the waist, reached around her to retrieve it.

Cissie yelped in surprise and pulled away, knocking a vase of flowers off the entryway table.  The crystal shattered and the water ran in rivulets from the table to the hard wood floor at their feet.

Cissie pushed him away and he slipped in the water, hand clutching the letter opener.  His legs went out from under him and his arms windmilled with the letter opener connecting with the electrical outlet at the same time the storm began in earnest.

Lightning struck the rods on the roof of the old mansion and the charge traveled down from the roof through the house.

Every electrical outlet, old and new exploded in a flash.  Snap, crackle, pop. Light bulbs popped, current slid across any available surface, and appliances unfortunate enough to be plugged in, immediately blew out.

When Scott landed, with the letter opener in his grip connecting with the outlet at the foot of the stairs, he began to jerk and flop like a trout on the shoreline deprived of air.

Cissie could only watch in horror.

The Haunted Lover: Part II

“It dangerous Scott.”  She picked up a stack of bills and the letter opener she’d been using and followed him back into the hall.  “Besides, Cal says it’s not a good idea.”


Scott watched her walk towards the back of the house.  I bet Cal thinks it’s a bad idea.  Scott had done his homework.  He knew all about the girl, who “talked” to ghosts, and the ghost who hid the gold from the Confederate treasury, probably in his own house.  This house.  The one only Scott was brave enough to venture into.  The house “Cal” was helping Cissie to restore, to its original grandeur. The house Scott had been searching for months, trying to find the stash of gold bullion.  Cissie herself?  Bonus points.

She was the sweetest thing, and her money was running out.  She needed Scott to do the manual labor, and soon she would need his money to finish up.  But they wouldn’t stay here, no.  He’d convince her to travel with him, see the world, spend the money her buddy “Cal“ gave him access to, and all the luxuries it could buy them.  What a life.  Perfect!

He knew her rejections of him were for appearances.  She claimed to still be mourning her lost fiancee’, but Scott knew better.  It had been two years after all.  Scott recalled the night like it was yesterday.

Cissie and Jeb met Scott at the Roadhouse to discuss the potential renovation.  Jeb wanted the work to start after the wedding, and Cissie wanted to begin right away.  Scott could never let the wedding interfere with his plans.  Jeb had to go.  He sat there straight faced while they argued and then he offered Cissie a ride home, after all Jeb wanted to stay and have a few more beers, watch the game with his friends.  Cissie declined, of course, the perfect lady.  He knew she would.  So of course Scott left a little while after Cissie and long before Jeb climbed into his Doulie and began weaving down the road.

Scott had positioned himself perfectly for this encounter.  He pulled out of the cornfield, high beams straight on and roared across the road cutting Jeb off. The direct hit into the county’s oldest live oak was really what did him in,plus he never saw Scott coming.


Cal watched Scott pry loose the panels of the original wainscoting in the long entry hall.  It was amusing and frustrating.  Cal knew Scott wouldn’t find the treasure without help, his help.  But this obsession with Cissie?  Infuriating.  Cal was tempted to teach Scott a serious lesson.  But then who would Cissie get to finish the house?  The house.  It had always been a bone of contention between Cal and his wife.  His dream, not hers. 
                It wasn’t that she didn’t long for the finer things and regret their losses during the war, she just wasn’t willing to spend the gold.  Gold that he believed belonged to him.  He’d spent his life protecting, guarding it.  Not only his life, but most of his after life as well.

Cal needed to intervene.  But the timing needed to be perfect.


We have a Winner!

Thanks to all the faithful followers who’ve been not only reading but occasionally writing with us.  We appreciate you spending your time her with us at Her Story Calls.

Because she is bold,  innovative, and because I loved her twisty little story she posted for the entertainment of others, the winner of this weeks drawing is Jessica Aspen.

Thank you Jessica, for reading and writing with us at Her Story Calls.

I loved your contribution to our All Hallow’s Eve Celebration and hope you continue to share with us in the coming year.