The Ghost in the Grove - Marcia (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

through the aisles and run her hands over the spines of the books filling them. This morning she had just made herself a cup of tea and was just settling herself down to read the first few chapters of a Barbara Cartland novel when Maria stormed through the doors.
“Good heavens Maria, what is the meaning of you bursting in here? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she asked her eyes wide with shock.
“Sorry Mrs Hodgson,” Maria apologised breathlessly, “there is something I want to check on.”
“What on earth can it be?” the older librarian queried.
Maria looked at her quizzically and the words were out of her mouth before she could rein them in, “Have you ever heard of Aaron Lawder, Mrs Hodgson?”
Mrs Hodgson’s face went pale as she did a double take, “what on earth do you want to know about him for?”
“He exists!” Maria’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Well of course he exists.” Mrs Hodgson exclaimed in exasperation. “Well he used to anyway.”
“Can you tell me more about him?” Maria asked
“Sure there is a pile of articles about The Lover in the archives” the librarian got up and walked to the end of the library were the computers were.
“They called him The Lover?” Maria asked her voice laced with scepticism.
Mrs Hodgson having caught the sarcasm in Maria’s question had started up the computer and turned and stared at Maria flabbergasted, “No Maria, Aaron was murdered by a serial killer called The Lover.”
For the next hour Maria poured over every article printed about The Lover and the reign of terror the ruthless killer had laid on Meenrall’s Hill 40 years ago. There were several articles based on the murders of the various victims but hardly any about Aaron. Eventually she stumbled upon something about his murder.
“17 March 1980 – In the early hours of this morning the police received an anonymous tip off regarding the murder of yet another young man. This time the victim was Aaron Lawder, the son of a local mechanic, Vincent Lawder, known by locals as Papa Bear.
Aaron’s body was discovered in the Evangeline Family crypt, and though the police remain tight lipped about the details; a source has confirmed that it is highly likely that The Lover has struck again.
Aaron had celebrated his 21st birthday two months ago and was a well liked boy. His murder has raised many questions regarding the killer’s motive. The Lover’s primary target has, up to this point, been the children of wealthy families.
Was Aaron Lawder a mistake? If so where to from here for the police department of Meenrall’s Hill?
So far we have heard nothing encouraging from them and I nurse a fear that this devious monster may never be brought to justice. We just encourage anyone who has any information, no matter how insignificant it may be to come forward. You may just end up saving a life.”
The end of the article had ended with a black and white picture of Aaron Lawder. Maria felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She was staring at the face of the man who had haunted her dreams the previous night.
“Thank you Mrs Hodgson,” Maria called out in a shaky voice, “I think I have everything I need.”
“It’s a pleasure dear. I would like to know though why the curiosity in this subject? I mean you have been living here for the last 5 years.” Mrs Hodgson’s brow furrowed as she looked at Maria.
Maria’s brain scrambled for an answer. “I overheard someone down at the baker’s mention something about Aaron Lawder. They made it sound serious and I thought it was someone.....well recent”
“Those old biddies can’t leave well enough alone,” Mrs Hodgson huffed. “Well you have a good day now. Don’t worry yourself about old stories. It is scary enough to keep you awake at night. Be a dear and lock up for me won’t you Maria.”
“Sure no problem Mrs H,” Maria replied, “Mrs H, can you tell me if they ever found out who the killer was? I mean there is all this information about the murders and nothing about them ever catching the killer.”
The older woman stared at Maria and sighed, “No dear, they never caught the fiend that caused all this pain.” With that she waved goodbye and left. Maria’s head was swirling with thoughts as she locked the library and walked her familiar path home.
Why was she dreaming about a dead boy and why was he asking her to look him up. She was so caught up in her musings that she only realised that she had reached Willow Grove when the familiar scent of jasmine filled the air around her. Looking up Maria saw the old willow tree and without a second thought she was racing up the hill to the clearing under the tree.
It was cool under the tree. A slight breeze had picked up and Maria sat down and leaned back on her arms, turning her face upward. After a few minutes she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. What had he told her in her dream last night? That he was more than a dream and that he was unlike anything she had or ever will experience.
She started to feel hot as she remembered the finer details of her dream. The tree rustled softly behind her and she sighed in frustration. She could not wrap her head around this strange boy who had invaded her dreams and the way he made her feel. A startled bird chirped and caused the branches of the tree to flutter as it flew off. Standing slowly, she took a deep breath and turned around.
There was nothing there, just the willow boughs floating in the breeze. Feeling foolish she decided on a direct approach, “I dreamt about last night. I saw you and I did as you asked, I looked you up.”
The leaves and the boughs shook as if though they were caught up in a thunderstorm. Maria looked around her. The world was still, it was just the willow tree on a rampage.

“I know about The Lover, Aaron, I know you were the last. I just don’t understand why you asked me to find you.”
Everything grew still and quiet. Tears gathered in her eyes unexpectedly “You came to me,” she shouted, “and now you won’t even show yourself. You’re a coward, Aaron Lawder!”
With that Maria hurled down the hill away from the willow tree. Tears coursed down her face and she hardly knew why. All she did know was that she felt like the biggest fool and after her experience in Spain she felt that she was truly going mad.
Maria wrenched open her front door and slammed it shut behind her. Throwing herself onto the couch, she began to sob and did not stop until she fell asleep.
She was walking through the soft mist again. Only this time she was angry, stomping all the way up to the clearing under the willow tree.
Her eyes blazed as she whirled around looking for the strange ghost boy. “Show yourself you damn freak. I know I saw you.” She shouted.
“Geez Maria, you going to wake the dead with your shouting.” He strolled out from behind the tree. His grey eyes were glowing and he leaned against the tree with his hands in his pockets.

Her anger bubbled over, how could he look as if though nothing had happened?

Standing there looking at him she realised that this was all just a dream. Aaron Lawder may have existed 40 years ago but he was murdered and her dreams were just a link to something she might have read in passing. Her shoulders dropped over, Maria turned to leave.

“I thought I proved it to you last night? That this is not a dream?” His questions felt like accusations.
The blood in her veins started to rush in her ears, but her dream self refused to give in to the anger, she kept walking on.

“Are you angry pretty Maria? Are you mad at me for not showing myself today?” his tone teased her as she continued on her way out.

Maria gritted her teeth and ground out a reply, “not angry ghost boy, just very disappointed. I think I was the only one who has ever been willing to take you seriously.”

Before she had taken two steps a tremendous force had knocked her off her feet and she landed with a huge thump on her back. The blow had slapped the wind out of her lungs and before she could gather her bearings, the beautiful grey eyes were inches away from hers.

“You are aware that you are really full of shit, right?” Aaron asked with a wicked grin on his face.

“Get the hell off me Aaron.”

He lowered his head and ran his lips along the column of her neck, “No. I rather like being here.” He whispered against her neck.

Acting out of instinct Maria raised her knee into Aaron’s crotch. She never expected him to roll off her in agony cursing. “What the hell did you do that for you crazy bat?” he howled at her.

“This is a dream and you are a ghost. So stop pretending and get over yourself.” She hurled back, confusion starting to creep in.

“Are you that dense? Does this feel like a dream?” Aaron yelled at her, his grey eyes had misted over in pain.
“I don’t understand. I was here today and you did not show yourself and now you are rolling around in mortal agony.” She said raising an eyebrow.

“Did you expect me to disappear in a puff of smoke?” he threw back sarcastically.
“Well not a puff of smoke. Shit, I need to wake up,” she muttered.

“Well excuse me for not being your typical ghost,” he replied

“So you really are dead?” she asked, hoping her questions did not offend him.

“Yes I am dead Maria and yes this is a dream but it’s the only way I can talk to you, for now anyway.” Aaron stood up and winced, “you have some knee.”

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” Maria whined, “you said it yourself, this is a dream.”

“Wow! You know you are really irritating and narrow minded,” he was yelling at her, “this is sort of a dream, a world between the living and the dead and therefore the rules from both worlds apply here.”

“Okay what exactly does that mean? Am I dead too?” she asked, the alarm creeping into her voice.

“No Maria, you are not dead. I brought you here.” A frown creased his brow. “Come sit here let me explain it to you and for Pete sake don’t hit me.”

“Well if you promise to keep your paws to yourself then no problem.” Maria bit back.
Aaron spoke and Maria listened, it may have been minutes or hours that passed, time seemed to stand still. He told her of how he had roamed the graveyard for 40 years. When he first woke in this life he was in the Evangeline crypt looking at his body with his severed neck.

“If I could have been sick I would have. You have no idea what it’s like looking at your own corpse.” He said with a shudder.

“Why didn’t you move on? Why are you like this?” she asked.

“It’s one of the rules of being dead,” he shrugged “when you die violently you can remain here until you resolve