The Mystery of Hollow Inn, Page 2

  The car pushes a little harder as they reach the far end of Florence Lake and start up another steep incline. The sun is now only a faint glow on the horizon, below the lake.

  “Now,” Sam continues, turning back to Ted. “I suppose the legend is about how Joseph Hollow’s ghost came to be haunting Hollow Inn?”

  “Exactly,” Ted confirms, flashing another smile over his shoulder. Spitting the last of the sunflower shells out the open window, he quickly closes it against the cool mountain night air.

  “Florence died while giving birth to their fourth child, Joseph. Shawn believed that it was the boy’s fault. As a result, Joseph grew up being resented and unfairly treated by his father. When Joseph was sixteen, Mr. Hollow called his four sons together: Christopher, Michael, Thomas and Joseph.

  “He told them he was getting to be an old man and had made a new will. The three older boys would be allowed to stay in the house. All of their lives if they wanted to. They would be given a generous monthly allowance, monitored by Mr. Hollow’s attorney. Joseph would only receive a small amount of money. Once Shawn died, the kid would be on his own.”

  “How horrible!” Ally exclaims from the backseat. “How could he be so cruel to his own son?”

  Ted puts his hand up to stop her. “It may have been a low thing to do, Ally, but Joseph didn’t exactly have a reputation for being the ideal son, either.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asks.

  “It’s said that Joseph was a troublemaker from day one. He enjoyed causing mischief and problems for everyone around him. He would go into the garden and pull up plants or break dishes in the kitchen, as well as other things, on purpose. Some people thought that Shawn Hollow planned to write him out of his will because he was afraid of him.”

  “Well, who could blame Joseph?” Ally protests. “How was he expected to act, knowing how his father felt about him?” She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to know that your own father didn’t love you.

  “The only thing people saw was a young boy who couldn’t control his temper,” Ted tries to explain.

  Sam quickly makes the connection. “So that’s why everyone thinks he’s to blame for the vandalism around the mansion.”

  “But I thought that he was thrown out of the house?” Ally questions, a confused look on her face. “Don’t ghosts haunt the places where they die?”

  “The will was never carried out,” Ted continues. “The very same night that old Shawn announced his intentions, he died in his sleep. The new will he promised was never found. He was a miserly man, and it was no secret that he didn’t trust anyone but himself with his money. The four boys knew that Shawn had hidden most of his earnings somewhere in the mansion. They were bound and determined to find it.

  “Now, Joseph’s three older brothers were just as greedy as their father had been. They didn’t plan on sharing the money with a younger brother who was never meant to have it.

  “About a week after Shawn died, Joseph’s body was found in Florence Lake. His boat was overturned. The sheriff was satisfied with the explanation that Joseph accidentally drowned, although everyone knew that he was an excellent swimmer.

  “As far as I know,” Ted finishes, “according to the townspeople, the other three boys grew old in the house. They were basically hermits, obsessed with finding the money. They never did, though, and they blamed their failure on Joseph. They said that he kept them from it. They believed Joseph’s ghost would stay there forever, guarding the money that he felt belonged to him and driving off anyone who tried to take the house away. In the end, he finally got the place all to himself, even if he was only a ghost. That’s it. That’s how it all began.”

  As they continue through the woods, the night wins its battle and closes around them. Occasionally, the headlights expose the glowing eyes of small animals. Over the next crest, the outline of the large mansion comes into view. A full moon is already working its way up the sky behind them, illuminating the tips of the tallest trees and casting shadows where there wouldn’t normally be any. There is no mistaking the structure for anything but Hollow Inn, and Ted turns the station wagon up the long driveway.

  “The story might be convincing,” Sam says out of the darkness, “but I don’t believe in ghosts. If there is something strange going on at Hollow Inn, I’m going to find out what it is.”

  3

  VOICES FROM THE PAST

  “You two must be exhausted!”

  A short, rather plump woman in her mid-forties embraces the young girls at the front door. After taking off an apron covering her summer dress, she brushes a stray hair from her face. “How was your trip?” she asks, looking from one girl to the other. “I hope it wasn’t too long. I know it isn’t your idea of a fun day!”

  “It was fine, Aunt Beth,” Sam assures her, after returning the hug.

  They stand in a large entry way at the bottom of massive oak stairs that blend into the hardwood floor. To the left is an old, ornate desk set up against the wall. On top of it sits a fancy guest book for people to sign. Beyond it is an arched entrance to a grand room, and Sam can see glimpses of dark, antique furniture facing a large bay window. She can only imagine the view from there in the daylight.

  “The scenery on the way up was wonderful!” Sam continues, still looking around. To the right, mouth-watering smells drift through slatted double doors which have to lead to the kitchen. “Ted kept us entertained on the drive here.” Glancing over at the blushing man still holding their bags, she smiles.

  “What she means,” Ally quickly explains, “is that he told us some funny stories about the people around here.”

  Beth looks skeptically at Ted for a moment, but lets it go. “Thank you for getting the girls, Ted. You’re a lifesaver,” she says warmly, taking the luggage from him. She lifts the bags with ease, revealing that perhaps the plumpness is misleading.

  Ted nods politely and heads back out the door. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Clark. It was my pleasure. I’ve really got to go now, though. I still have some things to do before turning in tonight.” He waves goodbye and then closes the door behind him.

  “So, obviously, you’re Ally,” Beth says, setting the bags at the foot of the stairs. “Sam has told me enough about you that I think I could pick you out of a crowd!” Smiling, she clasps Ally’s hands, and her positive energy is contagious.

  Ally nods in confirmation, thinking that maybe it really won’t be so bad out here after all.

  “Sorry about the lack of cell service,” Beth says to them both, as if reading Ally’s mind. “They’ve been telling us for the past year that it will improve, but so far it hasn’t happened. We have internet access, but it’s on a dial-up modem and patchy. We’re the last house on a private road, so we aren’t exactly at the top of the list for extended services. Most guests don’t seem to mind, though. They come here expecting to escape the stress of daily life and actually enjoy not being available at the drop of a hat.

  “Down the hall is a phone that you’re welcome to use anytime.” She points to a narrow hall past the stairs. “I’m sure your parents would like to know you got here safely, so why don’t you go call them now while I dish up some food? I prepared a late dinner for you.”

  Sam’s stomach grumbles at the thought of eating, and she realizes just how hungry she is. “Thanks, Aunt Beth! I forgot to call before we left the bus station, so I’m sure Mom is waiting to hear from us.”

  After the girls place quick calls to home, they join Beth in the big country kitchen. In contrast to the warm, dark colors of the main house, this area is bright and cheery. It’s obvious that the kitchen was recently remodeled. While still charming, it lacks the old, antique feel of the foyer.

  “Welcome to my room,” Beth says happily. She stands at a large butcher-top table at the far end. “We wanted to keep the old charm of the inn, but I refused to work in a hundred-year-old kitchen! Besides,” she adds, placing bowls of delicious looking stew in front of them, “I love all that wood,
but a kitchen needs to be…light. You know, a place that energizes you and makes you want to run around!” Laughing at herself, she scoops out a third bowl. “I ate earlier, but this smells so good that I think I’m going to have seconds!”

  Sam and Ally eagerly sit down and start eating while Beth adds fresh rolls to the meal and pours glasses of milk. She then joins them, talking in between mouthfuls, waving a roll in the air. “Don’t worry about your bags. Your Uncle Bill can take them up to your rooms later when he gets here. He wasn’t able to meet you because he had to go to a town in the opposite direction.

  “As you’ve seen, we are quite remote here. The two closest towns are almost an hour’s drive. The bus depot is in Jackson, which doesn’t have much more than the depot, post office, bar and church. Bill had to go to Sunnydale, where they have several stores, to get some special fixtures. We’re still in the process of doing some remodeling,” she adds hastily, looking down at her bowl.

  “Oh…Mr. Harrison at the depot said something about a ‘mishap’ here. Is everything okay?” Sam asks innocently.

  Putting her spoon down, Beth studies her niece for a moment. “That Mr. Harrison is a busybody,” she finally says, her food forgotten. “It was nothing, just some local kids jumping on the legend bandwagon.”

  “Legend?” Ally asks hesitantly, looking guiltily at Sam. It’s not like they’re lying, but neither girl feels right about misleading their host.

  “Please,” Beth states, smiling again. “Don’t try to tell me that Ted didn’t give you all the details on the way here.”

  When Sam starts to deny it, Beth holds up a hand. “I’ve been around awhile, Sam. Long enough to know how to read people. Don’t worry about it,” she continues, seeing the look of concern on Sam’s face. “I don’t mind. You would have heard about it eventually. Kinda hard to avoid it out here. It’s just a bunch of folklore anyways. I don’t put much merit in it. There have been some unexplained occurrences, but certainly nothing that I would say a ghost is capable of. Regardless of which it is, though, ghosts or kids, it still upsets paying guests.”

  “What sort of things have been happening, Mrs. Clark?” Ally asks tentatively.

  “Ally, please call me Aunt Beth. And it’s just some mindless vandalism around the grounds. Visitors get spooked over little things. An old house makes a lot of noise, but fueled by the legend, it becomes whispering ghosts as far as the guests are concerned.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Sam says, “is how anyone can know the story in such detail when it happened so long ago. Do you think any of it is even true?”

  “Well, it’s only been ten years since Mr. Hollow’s last son died. No one lived here since then, and everyone says it’s because the place has had such a strange reputation. No one wanted to buy it. Ten years isn’t very long, though. As for knowing the distant past, the realtors we bought the house from said they found Shawn Hollow’s journal when they cleaned up the place. The three boys passed on the stories from that book themselves, telling how it all began.”

  “Do you have the journal?” Sam asks with excitement. “Can we see it?”

  Beth laughs at her niece’s enthusiasm. “Sure, Sam. I’ll try to find it.” Placing her empty bowl in the dishwasher, she looks at the ceiling. “I think it’s in one of the old trunks in the attic.”

  Sam is surprised when her aunt walks briskly from the room. She hadn’t expected her to go look for it right now.

  “Your Aunt Beth is really nice,” Ally says, watching her leave. “I hope she isn’t just pretending not to be mad.”

  “No, if she were mad, she would say so. Aunt Beth doesn’t mess around that way. She’ll let you know what she’s thinking. I found that out at a young age.” Smiling now, Sam finishes the last bite of stew and adds her bowl to the washer. “Just don’t break something and try to hide it. That makes her really mad.”

  Ally laughs at this and helps Sam finish clean up the dinner. By the time they figure out where things go, they hear Beth coming back down the stairs. Moments later, she reappears through the swinging kitchen doors, holding a large hardcover book in the crook of her arm. Its yellowing pages are visible between the worn covers.

  “Here it is!” Beth exclaims. “It was right on top of the second chest I opened. Read all you like, girls. You’ll probably find it quite entertaining. I haven’t read it myself, but Shawn Hollow was said to be a fine writer.”

  Sam carefully takes the book from her aunt and randomly picks a page to read out loud.

  “July 19, 1925 Today Florence went into labor with our fourth child. I’ve sent Christopher for Doctor Suthers. He should return by morning. It’s different this time. The pain seems to be worse and Miss Nancy can’t keep dear Florence calm. It’s almost as if the baby is fighting her.”

  Sam says nothing, but turns eagerly to the next entry.

  “July 20, 1925 Florence died this morning. Christopher returned by dawn, as I expected, but the doctor arrived too late. From her death I acquired a son, but I can’t possibly love someone who killed the only person in my life who loved me back.”

  “My,” Aunt Beth exhales. “That certainly is a sad story, for both Shawn and Joseph. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, but I sympathize with how Shawn must have felt in that moment.”

  “You really haven’t read this, Aunt Beth?” Sam asks, surprised. “I thought that’s how you know so much.”

  “No, I’ve only skimmed over a few pages. I think the only person to read the whole thing was Thomas Hollow. He was the last son that lived here. He died ten years ago, in 2003, and was the one who found the journal. He told the stories, and they’ve continued to be passed on. I imagine they’ve been changed a bit in order to suit the imaginations of paranoid neighbors.”

  The doors to the kitchen open again and a tall older man with slightly graying hair steps into the room.

  “Uncle Bill!” Sam exclaims, jumping from her chair.

  Mr. Clark sets down his bag of groceries and embraces his niece, then steps back. “Look at you!” he says, surprised. “You’ve grown up so much over the last three years!”

  Sam grins at her uncle, and introduces Ally before sitting back down.

  “Welcome to Hollow Inn,” Uncle Bill says to them both. “We’re sure glad that you were able to come.”

  Ted appears behind Bill, loaded down with more bags of groceries. He sets them on the counter and then quietly excuses himself.

  While unloading the bags and putting away the food, Uncle Bill notices the journal sitting out on the table. “What’s this?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Beth.

  “The girls were curious about the inn’s past.” She quickly closes the book.

  “All that legend stuff is a lot of hogwash,” he says, scowling. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” He promptly changes the subject. “Where are the Andersons and that Steve fellow?”

  “Mr. Smith was scheduled to leave this afternoon, and the Andersons decided to…check out early,” Beth finishes, glancing at the girls.

  “What do you mean, ‘check out early’?” Bill doesn’t pick up on the subtle hint to let it go. “I thought they were paid up until next week?”

  “Well, you know how things go,” Beth explains, wringing her hands nervously. “Plans change.”

  Bill starts to ask another question, but a more obvious look from Beth silences him.

  “You mean you don’t have anyone staying on this whole estate right now?” Sam asks, now understanding the seriousness of the situation. It’s summertime. The rooms should be full.

  “No,” her aunt admits hesitantly. “No one except for the hired help, of course.”

  “Now, Sam,” Bill says, heading back out of the kitchen. “You wipe that look off your face. Beth and I don’t want you worrying about us having enough customers. We’re doing just fine. I’ll get your bags and show you two to your rooms. Lord knows we’ve got plenty to choose from!”

  Sam and Ally say goodnight to Aunt Beth and go out to th
e entry hall where Bill has already started up the creaky stairs with their belongings. At the top, the hallway branches off in both directions. They turn to the right, passing several closed doors.

  “I hope you like the rooms,” he says, as they finally stop towards the end of the long hall that runs the length of the house on the second floor. “There’s a connecting door between you, and if you need anything just dial zero on the phone. It’s an intercom, too, so you can speak directly with us in our room and in the kitchen.” He tells them both goodnight and heads back down the stairs.

  Sam and Ally let themselves in and marvel at the large rooms, decorated with antiques. After briefly running around and inspecting everything, they choose which one they want, and then admit how tired they are. Even though it’s barely eleven, they say goodnight and get ready for bed.

  As Sam slides under the covers of her huge, old-fashioned four-poster bed, silence settles over Hollow Inn. Although she can barely keep her eyes open, she can’t resist the journal that she brought upstairs with her.

  Propping herself up with multiple pillows, Sam places the book in her lap and stares at the front cover. She tries to imagine what it would have been like to sit in the same room ninety years ago. “What were Joseph and Shawn like?” she asks herself out loud. Maybe, she thinks, this journal will tell me. But fatigue sets in quickly and she soon finds the handwritten words blurring. After reading the first line over again three times, she realizes the diary will have to wait until morning. “I guess I’m sleepier than I thought,” she admits to the empty room.

  She sets the heavy book on the nightstand and clicks off the lamp. Shadows swallow the room, having already claimed the rest of the inn, and the full moon sends streaks of silver through the thin curtains. With thoughts of Shawn and Joseph Hollow dancing through her mind, Sam is soon fast asleep.

  4

  A GHOSTLY ENCOUNTER