Chapter 4

The next day the door bell rang.

The doorbell never rang. At least not for me. But now that Benjamin was in the house I supposed we would get a few more visors than we used to.

I could tell Benjamin was annoyed by the interruption. He was standing on a ladder awkwardly attempting to hang the freshly washed curtains back up in the first bedroom. If he let go now the curtains would slide of the rod again and he would have to start all over.

“Aw who the hell is that now?” he grumbled.

The doorbell rang again impatiently as Benjamin quickened his pace to get the rest of the curtain on and the pole back up. The doorbell rang a third time as soon as he was done and he dashed downstairs. I placed myself at his side as he opened the door.

On the porch stood a pleasantly plump middle aged woman carrying a gift basket. She was obviously taken aback by Benjamin’s rugged good looks and the way the sweat from his chest and back made his light blue v-neck t-shirt cling to his skin.
            “Good morning.” He said breathlessly as he wiped the sweat off his face with the crook of his arm. “Can I help you?”

            It only took a moment but the woman eventually gathered herself and gave him a welcoming smile while holding out her hand for him to shake.

 “Hi there. I’m Susan Buckwheat I live just down the road there, second house on the right. You must be the young man who bought this place, aren’t yea?”  She spoke quickly and in a chatty voice which told me she was used to hearing herself speak. 

“Well yes ma’am, I…” Benjamin barely had time to answer her before she was off again.

“I knew it. I told my husband someone was fixing to move into this old place. I heard it from Louise down at the realtor’s office. I couldn’t believe it when she said someone bought this house. Said some young buck from California (“Canada actu..”) was moving on up to our one horse town. I knew it couldn’t be a local. They say it’s haunted you know. Not that I believe in such things.” Susan had maneuvered her way through the door without actually being invited in, not that Benjamin had a chance to. “Yep, people see an old, decrepit place like this and just automatically assume there must be ghosts in it. Where’s your kitchen?” she held up the gift basket full of cookies and preserves.
            “Oh, it’s just through here.” Benjamin motioned with his arm to the hallway which ran past the Grand staircase and back into the kitchen. She led the way talking the whole time.

“You know I just love old houses like this. You’ll have to give me the full tour one day, once you fix it up of course. What are you planning on doing with it anyway? Are you one of those house flippers? I watch those home makeover shows all the time on TLC, you know you could really do a lot with an old house like this. What was it that you said you did?”

“I didn’t actually. In Canada I worked for a construction company but I inherited this house from my grandmother when she died. I decided I would take the money I had saved plus my inheritance and fix it up. She always wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast so that’s what I’m going to do.” Susan nearly squealed at the thought.

“What a great idea. This town is in need of a nice place for the tourists to stay. All we have now is the Motel 6 on the highway as you come in.”

            I wished Susan would ask Benjamin more questions and actually let him answer them because I was learning so much about him and his plans for our house. A bed and breakfast seemed like the perfect idea. I began I imagine all the interesting people who would come to stay. I would never be bored or lonely again.

            As Susan put the contents of the basket into Benjamin’s bare fridge she noticed it only held only beer and leftover pizza. “hah” she laughed knowingly “typical single mans fridge. I swear if my Don has his way he would have beer with his breakfast. Once I knew we were going to have a new neighbor I put together this here basket of food from the whole neighborhood.” She began to take the items out of the basket and into the fridge “Let’s see here…you’ve got Maud’s blue ribbon winning strawberry jam. She lives in the little white house at the other end of the street; the sweetest old woman. Hmmm… what else? A loaf of Valerie’s sourdough bread. Poor girl, she’s recently divorced, you know. She lives right across the street from me. You know….” She added thoughtfully “two young and attractive single people like yourselves should really meet up.” Benjamin nodded politely but I could tell he wasn’t at all interested. Even so I didn’t like where Susan was going with her not too subtle attempt at matchmaking. “Then we have some assorted cheeses from Debby’s husbands shop downtown, some homemade apple cider and some of my ginger cookies. My kids love them.”

Benjamin was flapping his fingers like a chatty puppet and making exaggeratedly bored face while mouthing Blah blah blah behind Susans back. The laugh which burst from my throat startled me. I couldn’t even remember that last time I laughed

 “Well that should get you started anyway. It would hurt to take a trip to the grocery store once in a while you know, all that beer and pizza really isn’t healthy for you.” Benjamin rolled his eyes and had to quickly recover his face into a pleasant smile as she turned around.

“Though.” She gave a short laugh “you don’t seem like you’re doing too bad.” I saw her eyes flit down to his toned biceps and back up again somewhat shamefully. “Well I better get out of your hair. I bet you have a lot of hard work ahead of you.” She continued talking as they made their way to the door. “You know if you ever need a hand with anything feel free to give us a call. Don would love to come over and help. He’s not really the handyman type but I’ve been trying to get him out of the house more. Off the couch, you know?” 

            “Thank you so much Susan.” Benjamin opened the door slightly eager to get the woman out. Her constant chatter, though charming, was starting to annoy even me.

“Oh no problem…What was it again?” She had never even asked his name.
“Ben.” He held the door as she stepped onto the porch.

            “ No problem Ben. We’re pretty neighborly here in Freedom. I’m sure you won’t have any problem with making some new friends. Bye now!” She gave a flirty wave with her fingers and she made her way down the drive.

            He gave a tight lipped, awkward smile and waved.

            Once the door was shut Benjamin laughed to himself and shook his head. I knew he had been as terribly amused as I was by the character he just met. Then he went back upstairs and continued his work on the second bedroom.

            I had a new appreciation for his work now that I knew it had a specific purpose. As I watched him clean and vacuum away years of dust I couldn’t help but become overly excited over the prospect of turning the house into a Bed and Breakfast. So excited that I began doing a silly little swing dance all around the room; something else I had not done since I died. As I danced and hummed around the room I felt a strange surge of energy emanate from somewhere in the middle of my torso. As it began to spread I felt my invisible body vibrate with what I could only describe as exuberance. I didn’t even noticed the paint can resting precariously on the step of a ladder. As I swung through it the paint can began to teeter and then fell loudly to the floor splattering blue paint all over.

            I immediately stopped and stared at the paint can rolling back and forth slightly where it fell. The vibrating energy began to slow to a low buzz in my chest. Benjamin was on the other side of the room by the window when it happened and swore loudly at the mess. He immediately came over and began scooping the puddle of paint off the floor and back into the can with a piece of cardboard.

            Did I do that? I wondered to myself in awe. But I couldn’t have. I learned long ago the hard way that I could not in any way affect the world around me. How could I have knocked over the can if I was made of nothing? I went to look down at myself and there, for the first time in a long time, I could see a very faint outline of my flower printed dress. I looked at my hand and though it was barely discernible it was there. I could see it. It was incredible.

            Something was happening to my being and I somehow immediately I knew it had everything to do with Benjamin. Maybe the presence of life in the house was giving me life. Maybe I was feeding off of his energy. I had no idea how but I was sure it was me who made that paint can fall. It was almost like I could feel it going through me; through my body.

            I felt awful for the mess I made that Benjamin now had to clean up. But on the other hand I was incredibly excited that I had made something move. I had done something even if I didn’t know how I did it, I had made a connection to the world, a connection that I had long since given up hope of restoring after I lost my life.

 

As the weeks wore on Benjamin began the process of making the house a livable space. His strategy was to move systematically through the house, from room to room. First, he would gut the room taking out anything that was not nailed to the floor or too heavy for him to lift on his own. He would put everything in either the hallway or the next room and begin cleaning every surface, every nook and every cranny in the empty room. He would clean the carpets with a special steaming machine. He would wash all the windows and paint anything that needed painting. There were many repairs that had to be done but Benjamin worked like a professional with an ease and skill I grew to admire.

While he cleaned Benjamin usually carried around a small silver gadget with cords hanging out of either of his ears. I had a feeling he was listening to music as he would sometimes dance around in a very amusing way and would pretend to play guitar on the broom or the vacuum cleaner hose.

As he returned all the items to the rooms he would carefully polish the furniture and all of the countless Faberge Eggs, antique dolls, glass vases, intricately carved coo-coo clocks and ceramic figurines which my family had collected over the years. I was happy to see that Benjamin decided, at least so far, to keep the houses original style just like my mother had and to keep most of my families’ precious heirlooms and possessions in the house rather than selling them at some auction.

Everyday more and more people began showing up at our door. Appliance delivery men come to install a new industrial sized washing machine and dryer in our basement. A giant new fridge and deep freeze were also delivered and put in the empty cellar. An electrician came to put all new modern light switches and outlets in every room of the house. A plumber came one day to replace the three moldy old leaking bathrooms stylish new fixtures.

I relished in the constant hustle and bustle of the house now. It was like all the people and all the repairs were breathing new life into it and into me too. Since the day I knocked over the paint can the buzzing energy never went away, and I never disappeared completely again. In fact, I had began to make some important connections between the intensity of the energy and my emotions. Whenever I was feeling particularly happy or excited the energy would turn from a buzz to a vibration and begin to grow inside my chest. I could see myself turn from barely visible to entirely discernible the happier I became.

In order to prove my theory I began to do little experiments. I would stand in front of one of our many curtains and focus all of my thoughts on happy things. I would think about Benjamins face, about the day he would finally open our house for business, about my mother and father (carefully avoiding any painful memories) and immediately I would feel my body begin to vibrate and the energy within me begin to expand. Then I would focus that energy and try to move the curtain. It worked nearly every time and I only became more excited and happy each time it did. Eventually I began to move to more intricate things like turning the pages of a book or closing a door. I tried not to do that too much however because I seemed like every time Benjamin would hear a door shut or notice something had been moved he made a face as if he were completely bewildered and kind of afraid. The last thing I wanted to do was convince him the place was haunted and drive him away.    

Reviews

[HayleyLemore]

A man that hangs curtains is after my own heart. I imagine that a guy in an old house would just hammer a few nails at the top to secure it in place.
Oh, I am laughing at Susan's matchmaking skills. Her vibrating energy is an excellent twist to the plot.
Cuckoo clock. I googled it.
I see many directions your story can take. And please keep writing. I'm enjoying it.
One way this story can continue...I noticed he brought in a typewriter. She could type additions to his work at night when he's asleep. Another thing...she could eventually reveal herself to him and they become great friends. The next way is darker. 1. She could save his life from some horrible disaster. 2. She is unable to save his life and they live happily ever after.
Keep me up to date.
Hayley