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Chapter 12
The next morning just before dawn, a tap on my shoulder woke me. On high alert, I jumped from bed. “Who’s there?”
I switched on the bed lamp, saw the chaos, and screamed.
The furniture was clustered in the center of the room. The desk stood at the foot of the bed, which was wedged between the hope chest and table, with the chairs stacked on top.
Who or what moved everything?
Teddy barked as a shadowy figure crossed the room and floated through the fireplace.
I ran to the window, searching the dark for the shadow.
Only the moon peered back like a giant eye.
Hyperventilating, I called Luke’s cell phone as I glanced at the time—nearly six.
He answered with a sleepy grunt.
“Can you come over?” I scanned the room, still not believing the mayhem.
Five minutes later, he knocked on the door, yawning. “What’s the matter?”
“Tell me what you think of the décor.” I gestured to the furnishings as I closed the door.
A scowl settled on his face. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Someone or something made this mess.”
“Any idea what?”
“No clue.” I gave him a twisted smile. “Just don’t tell me air vents caused it.”
“Forced air can blow feathers or rock chairs—but rearrange furniture?” Scowling, he shook his head. “This morning’s incidents are outside the laws of physics.” He started moving the chest. “Let’s put the furniture back, while we decide what to do.”
“I’ll tell you one thing.” I lifted a stacked chair off the desk. “I don’t want stay in this cabin.”
“I don’t blame you.” He picked up the heavy end of the desk, while he waited for me to lift the other. “We have two choices. You can either stay with me, or I can bunk here.”
The heat rose to my cheeks. “You mean—”
“That came out wrong. You could sleep in my bed, while I camp out in a sleeping bag, or I could sleep on the floor here…” He worked his jaw, as if thinking over the options. “Or if it’s only for a night or two, I could bring the rocker back and sleep in that.”
“None of your ideas sounds that comfortable but sitting up all night sounds the worst.” The idea of Luke being nearby calmed my fears, but recalling a cramped, red-eye flight, I shook my head at his sleeping in the chair.
“According to her diary, Marianna slept in it.” He met my gaze. “Besides, I’ve napped in it, and it’s not bad.”
“Maybe it didn’t bother you for an hour or two, but all night? Your back would kill you the next morning.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. What do you say we try this arrangement tonight and see?”
****
“Until now, everything that’s happened could be explained by natural causes, but the rearranged furniture’s different.” I poured an after-dinner cup of coffee. “Let’s call a spade a spade—a ghost a ghost.” I grimaced. “We’re being haunted, but by whom?”
“Marianna would be my guess, but why?” His forehead wrinkling, he stirred his coffee. “What does she—or whoever it is—want?”
After we put away the dishes, Luke hauled the rocker to my cabin.
