That Old House

The women informed me they'd be ready by mid-March. It had taken longer than I'd hoped, and I still knew I'd be rushing like crazy to pull things together. Now it was a matter of outfitting the rooms, getting Bev's bathroom in shape, and making the place presentable. I'd been lax with the day-to-day upkeep. That would have to change.

As much as I hated working on the third floor, there was more I wanted to do there as well. I kept putting it off, finding a reason to do anything else. I had run out of excuses.

* * *

Mary wasn't happy with me. Every time I headed up those last stairs, she'd interfere. I was having none of it.

"Mary, I'll be careful. We're running out of time before Bev and Karen get here," I explained while carrying my gear upstairs. "Nothing dangerous, I promise."

I hated the trapdoor. It destroyed the appearance of the second floor. I had decided to enclose the top of the stairwell, and add a heavy duty door, which locked with a standard key. It meant some framing and paneling, as well as installing the doorframe. It was going to be as solid as I could manage.

I could feel Mary's unease, a palpable concern. She hung out at the bottom of the stairs, and always was waiting there when I came back down. For her sake, I did all the cutting and trimming on the second floor. It took me about half again as long that way, but I knew it helped her.

I'll admit it. I felt uneasy up there. I don't know if I was becoming sensitized to a presence such as Mary's, but there were times I could feel a malevolence about me. On those occasions I simply put my gear down and returned to the second floor. It was usually a good excuse to provide for Mary's needs, and my own, if I'm brutally honest. About the third or fourth time she figured it out.

"...you know..."

"I do. I can feel when they're unhappy. Most of the time it's not bad. When I sense whatever it is, I leave. Give them some space. Alright?"

Her fingers brushed my face, her lips descended on mine. I felt the familiar tug on my right ear.

I grew a little complacent then. Less wary. Now that I could feel them, I was less fearful. I could go up to the third floor, and the moment it started to get bad, I headed down the stairs.

The rest of The House was as ready as it was going to get, before the women arrived in less than a week. The last thing I wanted was for Karen or Bev to go up there, so I was determined to do whatever was needed before they arrived.

There wasn't a lot required. I needed to close in the area above the elevator, for safety's sake. I wanted to put in a rough floor on top of the existing underlayment, thick enough to provide another level of insulation. Since I didn't plan on anyone being up there, the insulation was a big deal, I wanted to stop as little heat loss through the third floor as possible. This meant interior shutters on the windows, which added another level of safety, and sealing off the fireplaces. It also meant going up to the attic, and adding as much insulation as possible.

It went surprisingly smoothly, and I let my guard down. I rarely felt the unwanted presence, and reacted to it quickly when I did. There were no incidents.

Until I walled in the fireplaces. The west facing ones weren't an issue. I wasn't doing a fancy job. It wasn't the cheapest thing in the world but for about a hundred bucks, I could build a wall of fire bricks closing off the fireplace, backing them with a wall of tinder blocks. It only took a couple of hours each. I hoped to get all four done in a day.

It was the front fireplace on the east wall where the trouble started. I had no warning at all. I stacked the bricks to the side, brought up my mortar, and as soon as I had the first row in place, I felt it. The hair on my arms stood on end, my entire body tingled, and then I was rolling across the floor, the bricks flying my way. I scrambled as quickly as I could for the stairwell, diving through it. I felt a thud as one of the bricks impacted the wall behind me, and then I was stumbling down the stairs as rapidly as I could, gasping.

I felt Mary rush past me, and the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut. The bolt slammed in place, and she was with me, touching me, checking me, soft kisses landing on my face.

Someone up there didn't like me. That much was obvious.

* * *

I'm not a quitter. I'm stubborn. Some would say obstinate. I let things settle down for a couple of hours, and returned upstairs. Mary tried to discourage me, but like I said, stubborn. I wasn't up there for more than a minute or two before I felt it. The anger, the hate, the evil, directed my way. I retreated to the stairwell, and closed the door behind me. Maybe now wasn't a good time.

I relaxed for a minute, trying to calm Mary by making myself available to her. I think she was pissed, because she ignored me.

So I planned. Looked for an alternate solution. I came up with what I thought might be a simple yet elegant one. Once things had calmed upstairs, I'd return with a pre-built wall which I could simply slip in place. Forget the bricks. I'd place a steel plate over the fireplace, and brace it with steel rods I could anchor it to the floor. The whole thing wouldn't take more than a minute tops. The only real question was if both fireplaces on the east side needed this kind of treatment, or just the front one. For simplicity's sake, I decided to prepare for both.

I took the measurements of the fireplace opening on the second floor, since the second and third floors seemed to be the same dimensions. With the list in hand, I said goodbye to Mary, and made for the hardware store.

Alright, I know nothing about buying steel. I discussed my idea and it was suggested that I buy 1/8 inch diamond plate aluminum, and back it with drywall, then a plywood panel. It seemed more complex than a simple steel plate, but the weight difference was a big factor, and I didn't have to worry about welding. I went home with the materials, and worked late into the night, building my fire breaks.

The next morning I checked upstairs. Calm again. I carefully made my way toward the fireplace I hadn't approached the day before. I got within a couple of feet and waited. Nothing.

I carefully cleaned up the mess from the previous day's fiasco. I stacked the bricks in front of the rear fireplace and retreated to mix some mortar. An hour later, three of the fireplaces were now blocked off, with only the southeast corner one still open.

Downstairs, I was gathering up my instant wall, talking to Mary as I did so. "It should only take a few seconds," I explained. "I think I can get everything pretty close, then slam it up against the firewall and wedge it in place in about 10 seconds. Two or three good hammer blows should anchor the braces. If anything gets rough I'll get out of there as quick as I can, I promise."

A painful tug on my left ear told me her opinion.

"I have to do this, Mary. The issues are fires, right? The bad guys are on the third floor. Where do you think the fires come from?"

Of course she didn't answer. She so very rarely did.

"I bet they come out of the fireplace somehow. Maybe an ember from a fire on a lower floor. Perhaps one that gets out of hand up there. I don't know, but I don't want to take any chances. I think if we can seal off those fireplaces, we'll be a lot safer."

I lugged the gear up the stairs, and put it on the top landing. I braced myself, my heartbeat starting to accelerate. Mary appeared before me, her face concerned. She leaned in and her lips caressed mine.

"...careful..."

"I'll try. I swear. I don't want to lose all the wonderful things that have come into my life, but I'm not going to let whatever it is up here ruin my life."

She stayed visible, and moved out of my way. As soon as I opened the door to the third floor she disappeared. I understood. As scared as I was, I could only imagine how terrified she must be. Whatever it is had destroyed her life.

Those thoughts energized me, fueling my own anger. I moved the gear within about 6 feet. The braces where already attached to the blocking sheet. The two four inch nails had been started at the foot of each brace. My hammer was ready on my belt loop.

I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck, cool behind my ears. My hands were already starting to shake. For a moment I imagined Mary, leaping out that window, rather than face a burning death. I picture her baby in her arms.

"Fuck this," I growled. I picked up my contraption and slammed it up against the opening. I braced my back against it, my hammer already in my hand, and with a hard blow, I drove the first nail into the floor.

I felt it, the tangible evil, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. I drove the second nail into the ground, with two rapid blows, and turned to the other brace.

It was horrible, I could feel it, smell it, taste it, enveloping me. I drove the hammer down and before the second attempt, my eyes were tearing, throat scalding. Disgust raged through my body. I continued hammering downward, blindly, feeling the occasional true impact.

The miasma of malevolence frightened me, beyond anything I could imagine. I dropped the hammer, trying to crawl away. I was hit from the side, rolling over before scrambling forward again. I felt myself grabbed from my legs, pulled backward. I fought, kicked, clawed at the floor boards, the door opening only a scant few feet away. I rolled on my own, kicking backward, impacting nothing, while losing a couple of more feet.

I screamed my frustration, anger at the unfairness, while the adrenalin coursed through my veins. Kicking out as fast as I could, scissoring my legs, I struggled forward a couple of more feet. I felt it then, that same foreboding, enveloping evil. It wouldn't let me go. Not this time.

I looked at the open doorway, only a couple feet away. Something I could grab onto. A grip to cling to. A possible escape. My struggles could get me no closer.

Mary had been right. I was foolish to try. My stubbornness was my own demise. I thought of Karen, Bev. Only a couple of days away. I'd failed them as well. Failed everyone. My fingers scrabbled at the floorboards, leaving bloody trails where my nails had broken free.

They might get me, but I wouldn't surrender. Never surrender. Never, ever, surrender. My struggles continued uselessly, and inch by inch I slowly lost ground. I raised my eyes, toward that impossibly distant refuge, maybe a yard away.

There she was, watching. Visible, the fear contorting that beautiful face.

"I'm sorry," I told her as my strength failed me. "Sorry..."

I slipped a few more inches away, and knew that at least I'd tried. I blinked back the tears, and felt something hit my head. Again. I looked up, and saw a field of tools in front of me, more appearing out of the doorway. I grabbed a screwdriver, sliding backward several inches when I lifted my hand. I drove the blade into the floor with all my strength, grabbed near the bottom and pulled. I regained the inches I'd lost. A breaker bar was near, to my left. I desperately clutched at it, lifted it high, and drove the hooked end into the boards. With two anchors, I made quicker progress, moving forward several more inches.

I was abruptly released, and collapsed from exhaustion. It was very nearly my demise. Looking into the doorway, Mary was waving at me. I felt the agonizing blow in my side, and looked down to see my hammer claw driven into my flesh. I screamed out, and swung my breaker bar against the hammer handle, tearing it free, my flesh with it. I bit through my lip, fighting the pain, as I scrambled forward, feeling Mary's pull, falling through the doorway and down the stairs.

The door above me slammed shut, and I heard the rain of implements pounding at the door from the other side. Then Mary was with me. Sweet Mary. My unlikely savior.

* * *

Eighteen stitches for the jagged wound in my side repaired the worst damage. Bandages over my fingertips, a few more stitches in my lip, and a warning to be more careful was the extent of it. I was released from the emergency room that same night.

I slept at home in my bed, on the second floor. Or at least I tried to. I was too close to the evil. I could sense it above me. The Master bedroom fireplace shared the same chimney as the evil one above. After an hour of restlessness, I moved down to the first floor, and collapsed on the couch.

Gasping in terror, I awoke to Mary's touch. The nightmare had been so real, slowly being dragged backward into that fireplace, my body catching fire as it passed across the hearth. I was bathed in cold sweat, panting, and Mary was there. Moist cloth across my forehead. Touching me gently her eyes appearing before mine.

I groaned as she removed my pants, and trembled as I hardened for her. Then she was on me, and I was in her. That pretty face before me. Caring, worried, kissing my brow.

"I didn't know," I whispered.

She soothed me the only way she could, calming me, draining me, and taking my fear and self-loathing with it.

I slept in spurts through the night, waking exhausted, trembling. And Mary would sooth me again. And again.

Only when the dawn's early light bathed the room, did I sleep soundly.

* * *

When I woke, it was close to noon. I called in sick, and spent that day recovering. Talking with Mary, telling her my fears, my concerns.

"Nobody goes up there. Nobody."

She tugged my right ear firmly.

"I should have listened to you. I'm sorry."

Her fingers trailed down my cheek, and brushed my bruised lip.

"Thank you. I...I don't know if I could have done that. If I could face that again. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been."

She kissed me, quieting me, before soothing me once again. It was good for both of us.

It was nearly dark before I dared go up to the second floor. I listened at the bottom of the stairs, hearing nothing coming from above. I gathered my courage, to do what I had to do. My legs were shaking as I went up the first step.

She was above me, pushing me backward.

"I have to. I have to lock that door. Make sure they can't come down."

Abruptly, I was alone. Then I heard the bolt sliding home above. The terror faded for a moment, and I sat on the step, trembling.

She took my hand in hers, and led me to my bed. She stayed with me through the night, making her presence known each time I woke up. She took care of my, soothing me, bringing my cock to attention, then slowly, gently, filling my need. Whatever it was up there had nearly broken me. Mary put the pieces back together.

* * *

By dawn I was restless. I got up and showered. Mary joined me, her touch bringing the usual results, and she won me my release under the relentless spray. I shaved, and put on decent clothes. Cooked myself breakfast. Called in to work. Tried to introduce some normalcy back into my life. I had to pick up Karen and Bev at 3:00. I couldn't let them see me like this.

Routine helped. Bringing in firewood. Doing the dishes, cleaning up the 4th room upstairs, which I'd been using at my workshop. Every so often I'd go to the base of the stairs and listen. By lunch time, I could make it up to the third step before my heart would race out of control.

Mary did what little she could. Touching me, ruffling my hair, giving me unexpected kisses. She even had me chuckle once, as she teased me.

"You're going to have to be good now. They'll be home this evening."

All that got me was another erection, which she dealt with promptly.

A little after one I confirmed their flight was on time. I did a last few things, then headed out. I hope the blackness in my heart wouldn't show.

* * *

It was so good to see them walk through the security gates, I almost broke down then and there. I ran to them, showering them with hugs and kisses, while they laughed at me.

"No flowers?" Karen teased.

"I thought it was your turn," I told her, forcing a smile. "I figured the daisy would last a life time."

She laughed, and waved her ring under my nose. She was wearing it. I should have guessed as much.

It didn't take long to get their stuff. Most of it had been shipped. They only had two suitcases each. They'd left a few things behind after the last trip, and casually informed me they could shop for whatever they needed.

"You're back for good? Tell me you're all done. This is it," I said.

Bev gave my hand a squeeze. "It's done. You're stuck with me."

"Us," Karen added quickly. "Stuck with us."

"Good."

* * *

Things started off a little rocky. I imagine I was a big part of that. I still had issues, which I was struggling to overcome. I needed to find time to be alone with Mary now and then, for my own mental health. Only she could understand what I'd been through.

My stitches were a cause of worry, but I assure both Karen and Bev it was a fairly tame accident, and there was nothing to be concerned about.

The elevator was a hit, as were the new bedrooms. The new entrance road was a home run. They couldn't believe how much it did to remove the sense of isolation. For that matter all the changes were appreciated. We had guests almost right away, and within a month, we'd purchased a handicap accessible van, for Karen and Bev to use. They wasted no time getting integrated into the community. I was a little slower coming around.

It was early April, and the weather was warming. I had notice some very strange changes in Bev. She was always in a great mood, and I caught her talking to herself, laughing, on a couple of occasions. I don't know how I could have taken so long to recognize it.

I heard her chatting to herself in her bedroom, while Karen was out running an errand. I peeked in on her, and she suddenly got quiet. She turned toward me smiling. "I didn't hear you walk up."

A gentle caress of my cheek and I could sense Mary was with me. It all fell in place.

"You know," I said simply.

"Know?"

"About Mary. How long, Bev?"

She leaned back in her chair, smiling. "Whatever are you talking about, Jack?"

"C'mon, Bev. Give me a break. I don't know how I missed it this long. And I'm a little pissed at my girl, hiding it from me."

"Is she your girl now?"

"She has been since the first time you guys arrived. How long for you?"

"Calm down, Jack. Have a seat. What's the matter? You're not jealous are you?"

"No. But I don't like being played for a fool."

"Like you did me?" Bev answered, her words sharper than usual.

"I only hid it because it was so impossible. Nobody would ever believe it. I asked her if she was going to make herself known. She said she'd let me know when she did. I guess that was a lie. How long, Bev?"

"Jack, if you don't calm down and relax, we're not going to have this conversation. There's no reason we can't discuss things like we always do. I would think you'd be happy about the turn of events. Now do you want to talk, or argue?"

It took about 10 minutes before I was calm enough to talk reasonably. I felt betrayed by Mary. When she touched me, I pulled away, irritated. Bev kept speaking quietly reasonably, until I could deal with it.

"I knew something was weird around Christmas. Your behavior, and the way you talked about her. How she said it was Ok to wear the pearls on New Year's Eve. The way you talked to yourself when nobody was around. Something wasn't right," Bev explained.

"Then your bizarre attitude toward the upstairs. Your occasional bouts of unhappiness, the way you kept sneaking off around the house, Karen and I both noticed, and talked about it. We were concerned for you. She wasn't that happy you kept the picture of Mary in your bedroom. She put it away once, and it immediately reappeared."

"I didn't do that."

"I know. Now. I didn't then. I caught you talking to yourself, and found out you weren't. You were talking to her. Mary. I could hear you. I wondered for a moment if you weren't losing it. So I asked her. Over and over, until finally she relented. I let her know I was concerned, that I was worried for you, and how you'd changed. She opened up and told me. It's only been about a week now."