River run, p.1
River Run, page 1
River Run
River Run Series
Book One
By M.L. Bullock
Text copyright © 2023 Monica L. Bullock
All Rights Reserved
Contents
Chapter One--Sophia
Chapter Two—Sophia
Chapter Three—Evie
Chapter Four—Mary Sanford—1658
Chapter Five—Sophia
Chapter Six—Mary
Chapter Seven—Sophia
Chapter Eight—Evie
Chapter Nine—Mary
Chapter Ten—Sophia
Chapter Eleven—Mary
Chapter Twelve—Sophia
Chapter Thirteen—Mary
Chapter Fourteen—Sophia
Chapter Fifteen—Sophia
Chapter Sixteen—Sophia
Epilogue—Sophia
Author’s Note
BOOK LIST
Chapter One--Sophia
The sign loomed before us, old and weathered, standing like a sentinel at the edge of the property. It creaked slightly in the wind as it hung precariously from a rusty iron bar. "River Run," it read, the painted letters chipped and fading, yet still proudly announcing our new home.
I would later look back on this moment and wonder why I hadn’t sensed that this was a haunted place. A place of darkness and mystery.
My eyes widened as I gazed upon the grand estate of River Run for the first time. Thus far, I’d been relying on Mike's assurances. Talk about a trust exercise. I can’t believe I went along with this. Take that Dr. McClure.
Therapy had been Mike’s idea but Dr. McClure was the world’s most pessimistic marriage counselor--or therapist as he liked to be called. I was glad to be rid of him.
I shared an uneasy smile with my husband as we continued to make our way up the drive. Mike was the kind of guy that believed Hawaiian shirts were dressy. I mean, I’d seen pictures but the photos didn’t do this place justice. For once in his life, Mike hit the jackpot.
This was love at first sight. River Run made my spooky heart leap for joy. Yet, at that time, I didn’t know the difference between spooky and evil. They weren’t the same thing at all.
Nestled on the outskirts of Fairfield, Connecticut, the ancient house stood majestic yet somewhat forlorn; an architectural gem covered in creeping ivy and the shadows of its past. The roof's slate tiles bore the patina of age, and the windows seemed to hold back secrets and reflected the darkening sky's ever-changing moods.
A cold wind whispered through the ancient oaks that lined the property, their gnarled branches reaching out like twisted hands. Flocks of crows cawed ominously, their dark silhouettes cutting across the grey sky. The rustling of leaves and the distant rumble of thunder added to the eerie atmosphere.
“Mommy,” my daughter Evie whined from the backseat. “Is this it?”
"I can't believe it's ours," I breathed, my voice trembling with excitement as I stared at the ornate iron gate, imagining the feel of the cold, time-worn metal under my fingertips. "It's like something out of a dream."
“More like a nightmare,” I heard Evie whisper to herself. At least the boys weren’t complaining yet. I shook my head in frustration. I began spouting off the distinct features of the house, the widow’s walk, the gingerbread cutouts. It was an exercise in futility.
“Honey, it’s an old house but we’ll make it ours,” my husband promised our unhappy daughter. Mike, more matter-of-fact, squinted at the peeling paint and the slightly tilted chimney. "It does have a certain charm," he added, though his voice held a note of reservation. "I know this was my idea but I hope it's not going to turn out to be a money pit."
I turned to him, my eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, yet unable to shake a faint, inexplicable chill that danced down my spine. "Are you trying to jinx us? Mike, can't you feel it? The history, the mystery? It's perfect for us. Don’t you think so boys?"
The boys appeared excited, more so about getting out of the van after six hours of almost nonstop driving. Evie said nothing at all. My daughter didn’t like change. The move and the new house would take some adjusting. It would be okay though. At least I hoped it would.
Mike smiled, his eyes flickering with a hint of unease. "We'll make it perfect, together," he promised, though I caught his gaze roaming the property, foreseeing the work ahead and maybe something else. He paused for a moment, as if an indistinct shadow lurked at the corners of his perception.
As we made our way up the winding driveway to the front door, I felt a profound connection, as if the house had been waiting for us. River Run was a place where history lingered, and shadows whispered of tragedies long past. It welcomed us with open arms, but in its dark corners and hidden recesses, something else stirred, waiting.
Waiting for me, waiting for all of us…
As Mike parked the van, my heart fluttered with a cocktail of anticipation, excitement, and apprehension. The scent of fresh earth, wildflowers, and the faint mustiness of an old, long uninhabited house filled my nostrils. Our dream of owning a house with a bit of history was finally realized. This was a moment I never thought would come but now it was here.
Mike, my ever-enthusiastic husband, was already unbuckling the youngest from the car seat, his eyes wide and bright as he took in the sprawling property. Noah was fast asleep still so Mike held him.
"She’s a beauty but I hope she doesn’t have any surprises in store for us. You know Grant and Rebecca took it in the pants when they bought their Victorian.”
I smiled at him. “Hey, this was your idea. Remember? Besides, you know Grant can’t hit a nail with a hammer, much less renovate a Victorian home. You, my love, are far more talented.” As expected, my husband practically beamed at hearing my compliments. But I had to agree, the old colonial-style house with its peeling paint and overgrown garden might cost us a dollar or two. Hopefully it only cost us sweat equity and nothing else.
As I took my first step towards the house, I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were not just stepping into a new house, but a new chapter of our lives, one that was going to change us in ways we could not even begin to fathom.
The imposing wooden front door of River Run loomed before us, a gateway to our new life. Its weathered surface bore intricate carvings that hinted at a time long past, and the old brass knocker seemed almost like an ancient sentinel guarding the secrets within.
Why on earth would I think like that? I’m not one to be macabre.
Mike and I exchanged a playful glance as we stood at the threshold, each waiting for the other to take the lead. "Ladies first?" he offered, his voice teasing.
"Nonsense," I retorted with a mock sigh, pretending to be offended. "Since you're the handyman here, you should be the one to make sure the door doesn't fall off its hinges."
He chuckled, and the boys, Jamie and Noah, giggled, caught up in our banter. But Evie, our sensitive daughter and middle child, stood on the porch clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide and filled with apprehension. She nudged closer to me and I welcomed her warmth.
"Come on, sweetheart," I coaxed, kneeling beside her. "Don't be afraid. It’s just a new place. Don’t you want to see your new room? I hear it has big windows."
"I don't like this place, Mommy," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes never leaving the dark entrance. "It feels funny and it makes my tummy wobbly."
"What do you mean?" I asked gently, trying to understand her fear. I wanted to sigh but refrained. Couldn’t Sophie just once face life without fear? My poor fearful girl. Mike slid the key into the lock and we all heard it click.
"It's...cold," she replied, her small voice trailing off, her expression distant. “And it’s stinky.”
“Stinky? It’s musty but I wouldn’t say it was stinky. We must air it out and clean it up a bit.” I hugged her tight, feeling a pang of sympathy for her unease. "It's a big change, honey, but we will be together. And I promise, once we fill it with our things, it'll feel warm and cozy. Maybe we should burn the pumpkin candle. That will make the house smell like pumpkin pie. That’s your favorite. Right?"
I could feel her body relax slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on the open door, a shadow of uncertainty still lingering. Mike now free of Noah who was awake and ready to explore, must have sensed her discomfort. He lovingly reached down and swung her up into his arms.
"How about we explore it together? I bet there's a secret treasure hidden somewhere just waiting for you to find it. Probably gold and silver!" Evie's eyes sparkled at the mention of treasure, and she finally nodded, her grip on her stuffed rabbit loosening. I did my best not to feel jealous of the bond they had. I couldn’t seem to connect with Evie, not like Mike.
Noah glanced up at him sadly. He’d changed his mind and wanted his father to carry him. But Mike patted his son’s head and gently refused him. Noah clung to him regardless. He didn’t like sharing his father with his sister, or anyone. Usually, he was the one in Mike’s arms.
Geesh, none of my kids are asking me to hold them. Well, at least my oldest and I seemed to have an unbreakable bond. There was comfort in that.
“For real, Dad? Pirates lived here?” That was Jamie, our oldest and most naïve of all the children. I winked at him to try and clue him in on the joke. He didn’t seem to get it.
“Could be. Let’s find out.” With a triumphant smile, Mike pushed the heavy door the rest of the way open and it creaked ominously, revealing the dark interior. The boys rushed past us, their youthful energy and excitement breaking through the momentary tension.<
As we stepped into the dimly lit foyer, the smell of dust and age welcomed us. Okay, Evie was right. It did smell a bit stinky. The house was still and silent, as if holding its breath, waiting for us to enter fully.
The house seemed to beckon me forward, drawing me into its embrace. As I wandered through the first couple of rooms, I couldn’t help but be enchanted by its character. Each room told a story, bearing the marks of time and history. The ornate moldings, and creaking floorboards were all typical for the age of the house.
I can’t believe I’m standing in a house originally built in the 1600s!
We found the living room, its fireplace was adorned with carved wooden mantels, now cold and empty but hinting at the warmth it could provide. The walls were covered in faded wallpaper, its patterns intricate and mesmerizing. Ugh. Those will have to go. I hated peeling wallpaper. It takes forever. Large bay windows overlooked the overgrown garden, letting in a muted, ethereal light.
“Mom, look at this!” Jamie called, pointing to a hidden compartment in a closet wall off the living area. Inside we found a collection of old books and letters, their edges yellowed and worn.
Mike’s eyes sparkled as he picked up one of the letters, scanning its contents. “Seems like the previous owners were quite the writers,” he said, his voice filled with intrigue. I wasn’t too excited about some old letters--I had a house to explore. I could see the kitchen and had to go check it out. Mike handed the letters back to Jamie and followed me closely.
If we were going to lose money on this deal of a lifetime, it would be in the kitchen. Buying new appliances was out of the question, at least until next year. I opened the refrigerator. Thankfully it was clean and operating just fine. I smiled at Mike and gave him a thumbs-up. The stove worked great too. It was a dated kitchen but okay. I could work with this.
I took a deep breath, my senses coming alive as we began to explore the rest of the house. To our left, the dining room beckoned, its walls adorned with more faded wallpaper in intricate patterns, the colors muted by time.
Majestic windows stretched from floor to ceiling, their heavy drapes bearing witness to countless sunrises and sunsets. “Wow, those dust catchers have to go,” I muttered to myself. The second fireplace, grand and imposing, dominated one side, the wood above it stained from years of fires that had once warmed the room's inhabitants.
"Wow, look at this chandelier!" Mike exclaimed, drawing my attention upwards. True enough, a crystal chandelier hung majestically from the ceiling, its facets catching the dim light, casting a rainbow of colors. At least the ceiling was a bit higher in this room.
Quite a bit higher actually.
“Nice. This room must have been added on later,” I mused absently.
The boys, full of enthusiasm, rushed to the next room, it was a study of sorts. I trailed behind them. Dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dusty tomes and forgotten stories. The scent of old paper and leather filled the room, reminding me of my grandmother's house. The study didn’t capture Noah’s imagination for long. He was climbing up the stairs claiming his room, declaring it a pirate’s den. Jamie continued to wander through the old parlor, his imagination ignited by the rows of dusty books.
My son, the bookworm. At least he wasn’t staring at his phone or playing one of his many video games. I smiled at the sight of his curiosity.
“More books. This place is practically a library. Imagine leaving these books behind. Why would they do that?” Mike asked absently as he put Evie on the ground. Evie remained close to me, her eyes wide with curiosity but still holding on to her rabbit apprehensively.
As I watched Noah vanish, I caught a better view of the banisters. They were made of dark mahogany, carved with meticulous detail – vines, leaves, and even the occasional bird or butterfly. Every step he took on those stairs echoed through the halls, announcing his presence in this old dwelling. I decided to follow him and so did the rest of the family.
The upstairs bedrooms held their charm. One room, perhaps Evie's future sanctuary, had a nook beside a window, perfect for a reading corner. The boys hadn’t claimed it yet. I imagined her there in the nook, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun, engrossed in her fairy tales. I was happy to see her follow me and saunter over to the window seat and take a look.
Mike snuck up behind me and kissed my neck. I quickly kissed him back and hugged him.
“You did good, honey. It’s a beautiful place.”
“You think so?” he smiled down warmly. “Are you actually saying I picked out a good one?
“Yes, I am,” I kissed him again before pushing him away gently. I gave him a wink, as if to say, to be continued later. “Evie? Do you want to go outside and explore with me?” I didn’t want to leave her alone yet. She was still apprehensive. I could read it on her face.
“Coming, Mommy!” Surprisingly, everyone wanted to go.
We headed to the backyard where the wild elegance of nature had reclaimed what once must have been a meticulously groomed garden. Stone paths, now nearly concealed under a thick carpet of moss and tendrils of creeping ivy, wound their way mysteriously through unruly beds of flowers. I wanted to follow each one of them.
Patches of color peeked through the greenery where defiant blossoms still thrust their heads towards the sun, their petals a testament to nature's persistence. Once upon a time, someone had planted flowers here and the seeds remained and flourished.
Hmm…interesting.
In the center of this forgotten, unruly Eden stood an old stone fountain, its once-spraying waters now stilled by time. The basin was filled with rainwater, reflecting the cloud-dappled sky, and fronds of ferns draped gracefully over the stone, hinting at the grandeur it must have once possessed.
I could well imagine sculpted cherubs, worn by weather and age, frolicking around the fountain's edge, frozen in eternal playfulness. Yes, it’s almost like they belonged there.
Mike's eyes sparkled as he surveyed the overgrown scene, his imagination already transforming the wild tangle into a family oasis. "A bit of trimming here, some planting there, and this could be a real backyard paradise," he said, his voice tinged with the excitement of possibilities.
"Look, Mom!" Jamie's voice pulled me from my reverie, and he was pointing with wonder toward a grove of ancient trees at the property's edge. Amongst the dense foliage, a grand old apple tree proudly displayed its branches heavy with ripe, blushing fruit. The lush bounty seemed to beckon us, promising sweet memories in the making.
Noah's small voice, still clinging to his father's side, was tinged with hope as he whispered, "Think there's a treehouse?"
Mike's wink was a pact sealed, his words a promise: "If there isn't, we'll build one, son."
The estate's age and the weight of its long history only added to the allure, weaving an intricate tapestry that seemed to envelop us. I felt an unexpected kinship with the house as if the whispered tales of its past occupants resonated with our dreams and fears.
This was not merely a structure of wood and stone, but a living entity, filled with quirks and creaks, secrets and stories, all beckoning us to write our unique chapter.
Standing there, amidst the tangled garden and beneath the watchful boughs of the ancient trees, I found myself whispering to Mike, my voice soft with the realization of a deep connection. "I think we're going to be very happy here."
