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Chapter Sixteen
Holly
Iwasted no time pushing the gates open and climbing back inside the safety of Ursula after my encounter with the young boy. Grabbing my phone, I picked it up to dial Laurel and noticed for the first time since arriving that I had zero cell reception.
Are you kidding?
What year is this? There are still places on this continent without cell reception?
We’re not that far from civilization. I’m going to have to wait until I get a secure internet connection before I can contact her.
My mind began to race as the panic of not having cell reception began to set in.
She did verify there is internet available out here, right? I know we had that conversation; I’ve got to be able to do my job. I love ink, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t function with ink alone, and I most definitely cannot organize vendors and crews with no way to contact the outside world.
My eyes shot frantically to the key that sat securely on the center console of my vehicle, and I debated for a moment longer whether or not this was a good idea.
Was it really worth all of this? I mean, I have been doing a lot of research on this property over the last few weeks. I even watched the documentary that Olivia sent over. Suffice to say, I’ve freaked myself the fuck out, and it is likely that I’m just overthinking the history of this place, which is crazy if you think about it. Historical renovation is my jam, it’s what I’m good at. I live for this stuff, but geez – am I willing to die for it?
No Holly, stop being dramatic – no one is going to die.
Deep breath. Regain your center. Control your thoughts.
I sat in my car and continued to debate with myself internally until I finally reasoned with myself enough to slip the car into drive and pull through the intimidating gates.
And nothing.
Absolutely nothing happened.
I wasn’t swallowed into a black hole, I didn’t hear blood curdling screams, I don’t feel any ghostly spirits in the vehicle with me. I’m good. See, I was totally just overthinking it.
Without cell reception, I can’t call Laurel for directions to the guest house, so I guess I’m just going to have to figure this out on my own. I still can’t believe they sent a child out here to give me the key to get into this place, so strange.
I pulled down the long drive that ended at the stunning plantation home. I didn’t think it was possible, but this place is even more beautiful up close. There’s something about it that just feels, I don’t know, stately. If you disregard the horrible things that happened behind these walls, it’s easy to see why someone would want to restore it.
Turning right, I took a small dirt road path around the back of the home. I will have plenty of time to explore the house later, but I need to get unpacked and settled in first. Sure, I’m staying, but I don’t know how much I plan to do around here after the sun goes down, and I would like to be settled in by then.
As soon as I finished rounding the corner of the plantation home, a much smaller house came into view. The house looked miniature in comparison to the grandiose plantation house. It was one-story and was situated across a dirt path from the main home. The two houses were very obviously built together, as the siding was an exact match, and a small porch ran the length of the smaller home, a twin to its much larger counterpart.
The house was nestled into a wooded area to its rear. The woods probably haven’t always been there, but quite possibly have overgrown and begun taking over the house due to years of neglect.
I parked Ursula next to the small house and said a prayer to anyone who would willingly listen that there was electricity inside.
Cutting the engine to my vehicle for a second time, I stepped out of my car with my useless cell phone in hand, like maybe I could use it as a weapon if need be and walked around to the front porch.
Once again, I don’t have a key, and really, I’m just hoping the door is unlocked because if another child pops up out of thin freaking air, I might just go into cardiac arrest.
I stepped up the single cement step and onto the porch as the worn, whitewashed wooden boards creaked and groaned under my weight in protest.
“Hello?” I called out for no other reason than to warn potential spirits or ghostly beings that I was coming. It’s what all the pretty blonde girls do in the horror movies right before they walk into their utter demise, right?
Nothing. I stepped up to the door and turned the handle, slowly. Unlocked.
I’m having mixed emotions on whether or not I’m happy the door was already unlocked.
I’m just going to tell myself they unlocked the door because they were anticipating my arrival. I’m sure they cleaned it and maybe put fresh towels and linens in the home. Maybe even a welcome basket. That’s exactly what they were doing. Definitely.
I entered what I’m assuming, from my knowledge of this era, is the main living quarters and was pleasantly surprised. Sunlight filtered into the living area, bringing the room to light and highlighting the minimal – period specific décor. The furniture looked original to the time, although more elaborate than would be expected for the help and was in pristine condition.
