Layla
Bailey dumps an assortment of pastries on a serving platter in the humid, sun drenched kitchen. I lean on the counter and take a sip of my iced latte, praying the caffeine will hit my system and thaw the numbness still gripping my body.
Whatever happened earlier this morning still has me in somewhat of a trance. I can’t shake the feeling I hadn’t been alone in that upstairs hallway, and especially that I hadn’t been alone in my room.
“You’re holding that coffee like it’s a weapon.” Bailey giggles, rolling her eyes as she picks up the platter and sets it on the kitchen table. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t sleep well at all,” I admit, blinking into the unforgiving sunlight. God, it’s hot. It’s not even 8:00 in the morning. and the entire room is already suffocating with heat. I press the plastic cup to my temple and sigh with relief.
Bailey watches me curiously for a moment then shrugs. “You should go get some rest, then. You’re the night nurse, remember? You should really be getting ready for bed right now.”
“It was a quiet night,” I tell her, the cold coffee easing the pounding in my skull. “I went to bed around two, I think. No alarms at all last night.”
“Well, don’t get used to it. Ms. Penny’s mostly active at night lately. It’s the dementia, you know.”
I nod. I do know that. I also know that Bailey’s right, and I should be upstairs and back in bed, but the thought of being alone right now has my chest tightening and my fingers prickling with adrenaline. “Is the house haunted?” It’s not the first time I’ve asked her.
Bailey sinks into a chair with a sigh, her normally sunny expression fading. “I don’t think so, but you never know with these old houses.” She waves a hand around the room. “Why? Did the pipes keep you up last night?”
“Maybe.” I sit down across from her, my body aching with sudden fatigue. “I’m not really sure what happened. I thought I heard–”
“Hello? Anybody home?” A rich, male voice echoes from the front foyer.
Bailey rises, a smile brushing over her mouth as she catches my eye. “It’s just the pipes groaning Layla, I swear.”
“Who is that?” I ask, standing.
“Oh, that’ll be the neighbors. I’m sure they’re here to meet you. Real nice couple, I promise. Come on.” She takes my hand and practically drags me through the narrow hallway toward the foyer.
A middle aged couple stands in the center of the entryway surrounded by brown paper bags full of groceries. The woman, dressed in a flattering pink floral sundress, beams at us as she turns, a basket full of produce in her hands. “My, my, look at you!” Her neatly curled brown hair bounces on her shoulders as she steps forward, extending the basket in my direction.
The man takes the heavy basket from the woman and gives her a soft, knowing smile. “You haven’t even introduced yourself, Helen. Now you’re forcing vegetables on the poor young woman.”
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” She laughs. “I’m Helen Wilson, and this is my husband Robert. We live just down the road, your closest neighbors.”
“Oh,” I say, giving them a polite smile. “I’m Layla.”
“Well, of course you are, dear! Just look at you. You’re a Gregory, through and through.”
I blush deeply and smile, bobbing my head in thanks. Bailey gives me a knowing look before stepping forward to accept the basket of produce from Robert. “You didn’t have to drive over. I could have picked all of this up myself.”
“Well, Robert here saw your grocery order, and we decided to come pay you a visit,” Helen cuts in, her light brown eyes creasing as she glances from Bailey to me. “Robert owns the grocery store in town, my dear. If you ever need anything, you just let us know.”
“Their number is hanging on the fridge already,” Bailey says with a teasing smile. “You just wanted to come over and see the new nurse, didn’t you?”
Robert chuckles, but Helen looks playfully stricken. “Helen here has been in a fit about it since we found out the news last Sunday at church. Everyone in town is talking about it.”
“Talking about what?” I ask, some of my earlier unease slipping back into place.
“You, of course,” Helen says with a little wave of her hand. “Now, I didn’t believe it myself when Thomas Hart came to the eleven o’clock service last Sunday and said he had a new nurse coming to the Gregory Estate. We pray over Ms. Penny, regularly, you see, which is why he told us. He’d been calling around for weeks looking for a nurse, calling all the big hospitals. You name it, he called it.” Helen chuckles, beaming up at her husband. “And then, by some miracle, he found you. A descendent, no less. I couldn’t believe it. None of us believed he’d actually had Ms. Penny’s distant cousin coming back to the Gregory estate. We thought this place would fall into the marsh eventually.”
“Oh, I’m–” I clear my throat, planting a polite smile back on my face. “I’m not here because I’m hoping to inherit the estate, not by any means.”
Robert and Helen give me a curious look, but at that same moment, Bailey’s watch begins to beep. “I’d better get Ms. Penny her morning medicine. It was so nice seeing you both!”
“You too, Bailey. I’ll see you on Sunday.” Helen gives Bailey a motherly look of disapproval while Bailey rolls her eyes. “Your mama promised me you’d start coming back to church when you didn’t have to work on the weekends here anymore.”
“I’ll be there on Sunday.” Bailey forces a laugh, waving goodbye before turning toward the stairs and walking out of sight.
I stand in the foyer with the Wilsons, unsure of what to say, or do. “Uh, thank you so much for the groceries. I better put everything away before things start to melt.”
Helen scoffs, shaking her head. “Let us help you, dear. You’re probably exhausted from being up all night.”
I pick up a few of the bags, which are rather heavy, and balance them on my hips. Now I know who to thank for all the luxurious bath products. “Aunt Penny is actually pretty easy going at night–”
“Oh, no,” Helen says in a low tone as we follow Robert, who is carrying the rest of the groceries in his burly arms, down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. “I’m talking about the house.”
I pause mid-step, turning to face her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
She eyes me curiously, searching for something behind my eyes. “It’s nothing, dear. These old homes… well, they make a lot of noise, and it’s a different kind of dark when the sun goes down, you know?”
Something in her eyes tells me there’s a lot more she wants to say, but Robert calls out to us from the kitchen. “Better bring me those groceries, miss. Your bags have the eggs and ice cream in them.”
I reluctantly tear my gaze away from Helen and ignore the creeping sensation licking up my spine as I hurry to the kitchen, handing Robert the bags. “I really could have done all this myself. It would’ve given me something to do today–”
“Oh, it’s no bother. I’m sure you have your hands entirely too full with Ms. Penny’s care. Plus, I have been meaning to check out the dining room for some time and always forget when I’m over dropping things off.”
“The dining room?” I ask as he closes the freezer and turns to face me. “What about the dining room?” But Robert is already stepping past me.
He walks through the narrow kitchen and opens the door leading directly into the formal dining room, which I haven’t spent a single second of time in since arriving.
Sunlight pours into the narrow space, illuminating the antique eight-person mahogany table in ribbons of gold. Compared to other areas of the house, this room has been renovated recently.
“Well, the man did a fine job, if I do say so myself.”
“Who?” I ask, watching as Robert narrows his eyes on the intricate floral wallpaper.
“Curtis hired an artist a while back to come here to repaint the wallpaper, to give it new life. Even though it’s been a while since he painted this room, it still looks fresh. I will say I was nervous about it. The Historical Society has been gunning to make the Gregory Estate a protected property for years now, and having someone come in and rip up the place didn’t sit well with me, but… looks like the guy just brought the wallpaper back to life, is all.”
“It must have taken that poor man hours to do this,” Helen whispers, her eyes wide as she scans the room.
I stare at the wallpaper and wonder what’s so damn special about it when Helen turns to me and says, “It’s original to the house, if you can believe it. Two hundred year old wallpaper. Isn’t it just crazy to think about all the dinners served in this room, all of the family members who looked at this very same wallpaper two centuries ago?”
I swallow hard and nod, that creeping sensation only growing in intensity. “I’m sure the ghosts in the house appreciate keeping it the way it’s always been.”
Robert’s hardy laugh cuts through the air, but Helen isn’t laughing. She isn’t smiling, either. She just stares at me with an unreadable expression, her lips softly parted like she’s trying to find the words to tell me something.
“Well, we best be going. Come on, Helen.”
“It was very nice to meet you, Miss Layla,” she says, but her voice is strained. She turns to her husband, who is already walking away, cutting through the living room to get back to the front foyer.
But Helen lingers for a moment, wringing her hands.
“Is–is everything all right?” I ask, my mouth going dry.
Helen looks at me over her shoulder and nods, sighing, “These old houses… you never feel entirely alone, do you?”
“No,” I reply, giving her a soft smile.
“I meant it when I said that if you ever need anything, just call. We live on the next property over. It’s only a ten minute drive. You’re welcome anytime, dear. I mean it.”
The force behind her words catches me off guard, like a warning has been laced in between each syllable.
I watch her walk away, joining her husband in the foyer. I only catch their shadows stretching across the worn rug before they disappear from sight entirely, lost to the glare of the sun.
Running my hand over my face, I rub the exhaustion from my eyes. I need to sleep. My anxiety and stress, and that creepy, crawly feeling in my stomach…. It’s just a lack of sleep, surely. I can feel the fatigue settling into my bones as I make my way upstairs and turn into my room.
No musky, leathery scent this time. Just sunlight and the smell of clean linens.
But the second I lie in bed and close my eyes against the sun, the clunking, creaking noises start up again and blend into what I think are footsteps pacing in front of my door.
I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not.
I should probably get used to it.