<< Go Back

Restoration of the Heart

By June Foster

Order Now!

Chapter One
Janie Littleton's old Ford Focus bounced along the two-lane dirt road, winding through Eagle Mountain Range and slowing with every pothole. The ghost town of Silver Cliff would be a few more miles up the road, according to the GPS. The towering Douglas fir reminded her that the area was as unfamiliar as the uncertainty of the several months to come.
Finally, the long-deserted mining community came into view. A large notice was posted on the first building to the left: Property of the State of Idaho. Do not enter. Construction Zone.
She drove up in front of the Silver Cliff General Market and cut the motor. A sign in the front window said open. Someone moved around inside. Probably Mildred Dowling and her husband, Hector. To the left of the building, a Ford King Ranch truck was parked beside a Honda Civic.
A bell jingled as Janie pushed the heavy door open and walked inside.
"Hello, Janie." A woman with shoulder-length blond hair peered at her. Then a forced smile replaced her frown. "How are you?"
Mildred. "I'm great, thanks." Janie stuck out her hand. "How do you like your job as store manager?"
The store keeper's expressionless eyes didn't match her smile. "Fine. But you're the lucky one, nabbing the historian's job."
At Mildred's cool answer, a chill ran down Janie's arm. "I didn't realize you'd applied for it. But running the market sounds interesting."
A lanky man with deep set eyes under bushy black eyebrows walked in the front door and leered. "She couldn't do it without me. I'm Hector."
Janie grabbed the side of the counter to dismiss the urge to flee. "It'll be nice working with you both."
Mildred laughed, but her tone didn't seem humorous. "Yeah. Until old man Barclay makes his presence known again. Lots of people around here have reported seeing him."
Ezra and Belle Barclay were members of the town's founding families. "I doubt it since he died almost a hundred years ago. I've read that Ezra, however, has an ancestor who lives on a nearby ranch. Maybe it's him."
"No. People have reported seeing an old miner. Then he disappears before their eyes." Mildred waved a hand in the air. "Haven't you heard the story? To this day, Ezra hasn't found rest. He's still grieving for Belle and their stillborn child. Sometimes he goes into the woods with a little hand bell. He rings it over and over, mourning his lost love."
Hector snickered. "Yeah. Many nights his spirit roams the streets."
"You don't really believe that." Janie frowned. "I suppose a ghost tale makes for a fascinating story to attract tourists, but honestly, ghosts are just that—tall tales."
"Wait until you encounter the old Mr. Barclay like I did last night."
Mildred elbowed Hector in the ribs. "Oh, honey. You're going to scare Janie off before she even gets started on the job."
"No, really. I thought I heard a noise last night and went out the side door from the bedroom." Hector pointed to the back of the store. "Right there, next to the kitchen and office. The minute I stepped outside, a cold wind brushed my face, and I saw a shadow move in and out of the trees."
No way could Janie believe that. "You've got a great imagination, but the Bible says that when a person dies, they're immediately in God's presence if they've trusted the Savior to forgive them." Janie glanced out the newly installed window.
"Oh, yeah? I'm not too sure about that religious stuff." Hector scowled.
Best not to get in a spiritual discussion with the couple right now. "I'm going down to locate my quarters at Barclay House then investigate the area. Hopefully, I'll run into the contractor."
"The company's one of the best in historical restoration." Mildred glanced at her husband. Her smile faded.
"Yeah, well, if he needs any advice, I can avail him of my expert knowledge." Hector puffed out his chest. "Mildred and I both have degrees in history, like you." His dark gaze made Janie shudder.
"Right." If Janie wasn't mistaken, Hector also harbored resentment because he and Mildred hadn't acquired the job of lead historians for the project. "Catch up with you later."
The completely renovated Barclay house, the third dwelling on the left, down the dirt street, would be her home for a while and offer more comfort than one that hadn't been refurbished yet, with cracks in the ceiling and gaping holes in the floors. She parked on the side of the two-story wood-frame house. A porch stretched across the front of the old home.
From the trunk, Janie grabbed her suitcase and backpack containing her few possessions. At the door, a carved piece of wood served as a latch, resting on another notched piece attached to the wall. There'd be no way to lock the door, though she expected few visitors in the area until renovations were complete. No one except the construction workers and Mildred and Hector.
Inside, new wooden planks covered the floor. A hook rug lay next to a single twin bed in one corner. The separate bedroom on the other side of the house must've been Belle and Ezra's. Where Belle died in childbirth.
Janie's fully furnished accommodations were nice according to 1890 standards but rustic by today's. Yet, the opportunity to work on the project was well worth the primitive lodging.
The second-floor loft was built over the back two thirds of the main room. A low wall ran across the edge. Hopefully the Barclays never fell off the ledge.
Scrape. Bump.
Janie lifted her chin and peered at the empty attic where the sounds came from.
She caught her breath and held it. Maybe she shouldn't have listened to the silly ghost tale Hector relayed. On the right wall above, an odd shape, something like a person, danced up to the ceiling then dropped down again. Janie sipped in a quick breath as her heart pounded, and she blinked her eyes.
She peered at the wall.
The image was gone.
Shrugging, she headed toward the bed to unpack. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the silvery shape bobbing up and down again. Though she didn't believe a ghost was up there, the swaying thing in the loft couldn't be human.
Thump.
Before she could silence the rising fear, a scream escaped her lips. She took slow steps backward toward the front door. Once more, the shape disappeared, and nothing but silence pervaded the room.
Should she grab her bags and make a run for it? Janie chided herself. If she was to work in a deserted ghost town, she'd have to act like a twenty-eight-year-old instead of a child. She took a few steps to her bed and unzipped her bag.
Creak. Squeak.
Janie watched in horror as the backdoor slowly inched opened. This had to be a creature with flesh and bones—be it animal or human.
A rusted poker was propped up against the side of the fireplace. Janie picked up the weapon and crept to the door. Slowly she lifted the piece of iron over her head, ready to swing.
A man's face angled around the door's edge.
Another shriek ripped from her lips.

*****

Luke Chamberlain slowly pushed through the back door of the Barclay house. Someone had come inside. The project historian was due in tomorrow, so it couldn't be him.
Not likely Hector or Mildred either, as he'd seen both in front of the store, and his men were taking a break in the bunkhouse. Maybe a vagrant wandered inside. Luke peeked around the door.
On the other side, a woman stood with a fireplace poker trained over her head.
He took a quick step back. "Whoa." He held his palms out toward her. "I'm not going to hurt you. You can put that thing down."
"Oh, you're not a ghost." The instrument clunked on the floor.
"Naw." He shook his head. "I'm Luke Chamberlain, the project contractor. Not dead yet, last time I checked." He chuckled.
The woman's brown eyes twinkled. Her arms were well-shaped. Nothing like his former girlfriend's thin, bony ones. She held out her hand. "I'm Janie Littleton, the historian on the project. Sorry I almost decked you."
The historian? "You're a she, not a he."
Janie frowned. "Yes, I'm a she—last time I checked."
From the sarcastic tone of voice, Luke figured he'd insulted her. "No, I don't think you look like a guy. I mean … " He coughed. "I thought the historian was a man arriving tomorrow."
She shook her head, her short brown hair framing her face.
Regardless of their unfortunate meeting, he still wanted to know why she had cried out. "It sounded like you were startled about something a few minutes ago. I hope I didn't frighten you."
"You? I … er, I saw a weird shadow or something up there in the loft." She pointed to the second floor. "I couldn't exactly make out what it was."
"I was up there toward the back taking measurements of the windows. We're starting renovations on the Johnston house next door, and the floor plan is identical to this one. You might not have seen me from down here."
Janie pushed her glasses up on her nose and lifted her eyebrows as if she didn't believe him. "What I saw definitely wasn't you." She looked him up and down. Then her cheeks stained pink.
"I was in front of the window, and the sun shone in. Maybe I cast a shadow on the opposite wall."
"I feel foolish now." She ran her hand through her hair, tossing it back from her face. "For a split second, your shadowy reflection looked like some kind of apparition. When I first arrived, Hector reminded me the town is haunted by Ezra Barclay's ghost. I don't believe that peoples' spirits remain on earth after they die, so it was stupid of me to yell."
Luke could sympathize. "No problem. I might've felt the same. As I child, I used to think ghosts hid under my bed, and Mom would tell me as Christians, we didn't believe in ghosts. She assured me there were no phantoms lurking in my bedroom."
Her eyes brightened. "So you're a man of faith."
"Yep. The Lord came into my life while I was still in high school. What about you?"
"You bet." She nodded. "But I have one question. How did you get in and out of the loft without me seeing you?"
"Well, since I thought I heard an intruder, I didn't make my presence known. I left the way I'd come in." He grinned and crooked his finger. "Follow me."
Janie lifted her eyebrow, a smile barely curving her lips. A sprinkling of freckles over her nose made her look like a teenager.
Luke held the door as Janie slipped under his arm and out the back. "Look to your left." He pointed at the stairway built next to the side wall leading to the loft.
Janie closed her eyes and held her forehead in one hand. "I should've figured it out. In the 1800s, these houses usually featured outdoor stairways. Look, I need to unpack." With a red face, she turned around and rushed through the door.
Strike one. He and the new historian hadn't exactly started off well. Somehow, he got the impression Janie Littleton was all business. But in the future, he wanted to watch what he said. He would never belittle her the way Victoria had him, making him feel like an insignificant, bumbling idiot.
 

Order Now!

<< Go Back