Treasured Legacies (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the house.
    Mary stepped out of the SUV and stared at the house.   It was a large wood-framed home, with a
graceful wraparound porch, a picture window in the front and a porch swing just
waiting for an occupant.   Rosie was
right, it needed a family.   It was a
place for family gatherings. She could picture a Christmas tree in the front
window, with the porch strewn with lights and garland or friends and families
gathering for a country Thanksgiving, arms filled with dishes as they walked up
the stairs, greeted by loved ones.   This
house had great memories, but it needed more.
    “I see what you mean,” Mary said to Rosie, over the hood of
the vehicle. “Let’s go in.”
    They walked up the steps and Rosie unlocked the door,
leading the way into the house.
    The front hallway had a staircase to the left and a doorway
ahead of them.   Mary paused, waiting to
see if she felt a prompting to go upstairs or continue through the first
floor.   She had a little twist in her
stomach as she looked through the doorway that led to the dining room. “Let’s
go this way,” she suggested, walking down the hallway.
    The old wood floors glistened in the sunlight that poured
through the lace-curtained windows.   The
house was chilly, but it seemed to Mary to be more the cause of a low
thermostat setting than anything supernatural.   She walked through the dining room, into a great room with a wood stove
on a red brick hearth.   This would be cozy , she thought.  
    Walking slowly around the empty room, Mary could sense a
feeling of family in the room.   She could
see shadows of the families who had lived here; children standing around the
wood stove in the early morning hours enjoying the warmth as they talked and
laughed, other children playing board games on a coffee table, a child laying
on a couch covered with a quilt as a worried mother hovered nearby and hushed
voices and the patter of little feet as they rushed down the stairs to greet
the magic of Christmas.   There was
nothing scary or supernatural here, just memories, good memories, of growing
up.   There had to be something else wrong
with the house, because it really didn’t seem to be haunted.   Turning to Rosie, she was about to suggest
they leave when she saw a movement in the kitchen.
    Hurrying across the room, she walked through the doorway to
the big country kitchen.  
    “What are you doing in my house?” the man demanded.
    Mary turned and gasped.   He was standing in the far corner of the kitchen, near the back
door.   He was wearing an old barn jacket
over a pair of worn overalls.   But his
head was twisted sideways and it was too narrow and long, as if it had been
crushed.   She looked carefully and saw
his body also seemed to have been broken by the way he stood.
    “I’m not going to ask you again,” he snapped. “What are you
doing in my house?”
    “Hi, I’m Mary,” she said, approaching him. “Mary O’Reilly. I
was invited here because your family is interested in selling the house.”
    “What the hell?” he growled. “We’re not selling this
place.   This place has been in our family
for generations.   I don’t give a damn
what those land speculators say, we ain’t selling,
not one acre.”
    “Well, I agree with you, Mr —” Mary
paused.
    “Johnson. Dale Johnson,” he replied, gliding over to her. “I
own this place. Don’t do all the running of it anymore - my kids do that- but I
still own every single square foot.”
    “It’s a beautiful place,” Mary agreed. “I don’t blame you
for not wanting to sell it.”
    He smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is beautiful and it’s got
plenty of good memories wrapped up inside it. And I thank you for being so
polite.   I’ve had my house invaded for
the last little while by strangers who think they can just walk all over without
even a ‘how do you do.’   I follow them
around the house, demanding they leave, but they just ignore me. Peeking in my
closets and opening my