Chapter 3

The first few nights were the worst. With no phone connected yet, and no cell phone at her disposal, she couldn't call her best friend, Wendy. No communication made her feel even more isolated and alone. The bones of the house made all sorts of creaking and moaning sounds. If she hadn't been so exhausted from all the work her parents made her do, she might have been scared. Old houses made old noises, but she was simply too exhausted to care. Even poor Daniel fell asleep during their third dinner at the house.

Once her funk settled comfortably inside her chest, Jessie realized she wasn't the only one having a hard time adjusting. The move bothered Daniel too--he just hid it better. Their second night in the house, he'd come into her room well after midnight and just sat on the bed until she woke up, something he hadn't done since he was five.

"Something scare you, Daniel?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "This house is haunted."

The moon shone through the small window and danced across the floor with the shadows from a tall pine tree swaying in the slight breeze. Jessie grinned in the darkness. The previous night, she'd thought the same thing before realizing how silly that sounded. "I know it sounds like that sometimes, bu--"

"All the time. Even in the day, and especially on the third and fourth floors."

"Really?" Jessie leaned on her elbow. She could only see his outline from the moon.

"Yeah. It's haunted for sure. That's probably the real reason why those people sold it to Mom and Dad."

Jessie nodded. "Now there's a thought. Think we should tell them?"

Daniel shook his head. "They wouldn't believe us."

She knew that was true. "What else is bugging you?"

Daniel sighed. "There aren't any kids my age to play with."

"Are you sure? The other day I saw a bunch of kids your age hanging out on the beach."

Shrugging, Daniel scooted closer. "Mom only lets me go to the edge of the driveway. Like I'm a baby."

"You're kidding me."

"She thinks I'm gonna get lost or something."

"Have you been to town?"

Daniel looked down. Jessie knew that look.

"Did you sneak downtown?"

"Don't tell Mom."

Jessie sat up and mussed his hair. "You know I'd never tell them. Listen. How about if you get to know your way around and then show me?"

"Really? You'd really go with me?" His voice rose in excitement.

"You bet. We'll get an early go of it in the morning, before the slave drivers get up. How's that sound?"

"We're not gonna sneak, are we?"

"Nah. I'll leave them a note telling them we've gone exploring."

"Exploring? Cool. Thanks, Jess. You're the best."

She smiled wistfully. "Glad someone thinks so. Now, you go back to bed and wake me in the morning when you get up."

"What about the noises?"

"It's just the house settling. These old maids have boards like bones, and they creak and groan just like Grandma's."

Daniel shook his head. "It's not just that. I...hear voices or something."

"It's okay. Sometimes the bones can sing. There's nothing to be scared about, Daniel. We're pretty safe in this little burg. Probably way safer than in the city. But if you get scared again, you can always come back in here and wake me up, okay?"

"Thanks, Jess."

"Wake me up early. You know how Reena gets once she's chugged her second cup of coffee."

"Roger that. You'll be up before the sun. I'll make sure of it."

And he did. Three minutes before six, they were both dressed and out the door, winding their way down Morning Glory Drive to a deserted Main Street. A slight fog hovered between buildings like magician's smoke. The occasional gull cawed from a perch on one of the three electric poles in town, and the lighthouse on the Head blew a low note. A warning? About what? Sailors? Boats? Pirates? Jessie smiled to herself. Pirates. Where on earth did that come from? What a moron. Maybe she should have paid more attention in school.

"It's too early," Daniel said as they crossed the empty street. "And cold. The sun here never comes out until noon."

"Let's grab some coffee and hot chocolate at that donut shop over there and watch the town wake up."

"What will I do if I see some kid to play with?"

"You go out there and ask them if they know where you can skateboard or play hoops. You'll know what to say. You always do." Jessie opened the door to Del's Coffee Shop and watched as Daniel walked past her. He had always been such a good little kid and an even better little brother. He was sweet. Finding friends would not be a problem for him. She, on the other hand, was a horse of a different color. Making friends had never been easy for her, and she didn't see why now would be any different.

The donut shop was in an old, converted Winchell's, but it smelled better than the paint and turpentine they'd been inhaling the past few days. The shop was clean and warm, and sported artwork from local artists for sale on the walls. The paintings were very good, but there were a few photographs that really caught Jessie's eye. One showed a clipper ship sailing parallel to the horizon, masts in full bloom. She didn't know why she was drawn to this photo, and before she could put any more thought into it, a large bald man cleared his throat.

"Good mornin' to ya," the man chimed from behind the counter. He wore a white apron and a white baseball cap that said Donut go gentle. The same caps were for sale on a shelf above the coffee accoutrements.

"Good morning," Daniel chirped, hoisting himself into a booth.

"What'll ya have this fine morning?"

Jessie walked up to the counter and pointed to the rack behind the baker. "Two of those cinnamon rolls, a glass of milk and your house blend, please."

"Comin' right up. Have a seat and I'll bring it on over. Want those rolls heated up?"

Jessie looked at Daniel, who nodded.

"Sure. Thank you." Jessie grinned. It felt good to get away from the Inn. They'd been working non-stop since they unpacked, trying to get the last three rooms on the second floor done so they might open it to customers by the winter season. She'd painted, sanded, scraped glass clean, and learned how to repair and finish hardwood floors. It was hard work fixing an inn, and even her parents were starting to fall asleep at nine o'clock.

"How'd you sleep last night?"

Daniel shrugged. "I think the noises are coming from upstairs. If I'm really quiet, I can almost hear what they're saying."

"So you heard them last night?"

"Yeah. I try to remember what you said, but it's not creaking, Jess. They're voices. But I don't want to be a baby about it, so I put the pillow over my head and hum."

Jessie grinned. "Good for you."

"How about you? You doin' okay at night?"

"Why do you ask?"

Daniel shrugged. "You talk in your sleep sometimes."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do." Daniel giggled. "I can hear it."

Jessie nodded. "Can you hear what I'm saying?"

Daniel nodded. "Sometimes."

Jessie had never talked in her sleep before. She'd lain here at night, in the dark, trying not to feel the loneliness washing over her. She didn't want to feel the ache of wanting something she couldn't name. Nights were always the worst; when the darkness brought with it all the ugly, sad, empty emotions busy work kept at bay during the day. That's how it had been her whole life; like she sat waiting for something. She just didn't know for what.

"Do you lay there and think about going back home?"

Jessie cocked her head. "Why do you ask?"

Shrugging, Daniel stared out the window. "At night, when you're mumbling, you keep saying you can't go back. It's sorta spooky." Daniel sighed. "You're not gonna run away again, are you?"

Jessie winced inside. Running away hadn't been one of her smarter moves. She'd discovered much too quickly that one can never run away from oneself. "I won't lie to you. The minute I turn eighteen, I'm gone. I can't live in a place like this. I'm...well, I'm a Californian."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Wendy's, maybe. Maybe I'll get a job and find a place of my own."

"No college? Mom and Dad think you're going to college."

Jessie shook her head. "I know it's what the folks want, but I doubt it's going to happen. It's just not in the cards for me."

Daniel kept staring outside. A young couple jogged by as the street slowly came to life. Still, the sun made no appearance, but the mist, or fog, or whatever lingered like a lost ghost in the early morning air, was finally dissipating.

The baker came over bearing two steaming cinnamon rolls the size of small pizzas and a large, welcoming smile. "You want to know what's in the cards, young lady, you oughta go see Madame Ceara. She's one of the best in the country."

Jessie smiled back politely, but said nothing.

"Here you go." The baker set the rolls down and retrieved the coffee and milk. "Free refills on your coffee."

Jessie looked up at him. "You're kidding."

The rotund man with the flour on his cheeks nodded. "You must be from California. They all say the same thing when they come in here."

Nothing in California was free.

Daniel turned and nodded, staring down at the enormous cinnamon roll. "Cool. And you don't have to pump your own gas, either."

"You're right. Add to those two things my cinnamon rolls, and you'll know why some folks never leave."

Daniel took a bite and nodded, his eyes wide with joy. "You're not kidding."

"You tourists or new to town?"

"New to town," Jessie answered sipping her coffee. It was the best coffee she'd ever tasted. "We just moved into the inn up on Morning Glory Drive."

"The old Laing place? Then you must be the Fergusons."

"We are!" Daniel cried. "I'm Daniel, and this is my sister, Jessie."

"Nice meetin' you both. I'm Delmar, but folks 'round here call me Del. I own this place. You know, we were all wondering who bought the inn. It's a beautiful place. I hear your folks are renovating the rest of it."

Jessie nodded. "They're finishing what the Laings started and are turning it into a bed and breakfast."

"Excellent. The only other Victorian B&B we have is the bed and breakfast over on Cliff Drive, and it's full all year long."

"How long have you been in business here, Del?"

"This'll be my twenty-second year. You want to know something about anything, you ask me. You want to know something about everything, you ask Madame Ceara. Either way, one or both of us should be able to answer your questions. The two of us are the oldies in town. Well, you two be sure'n tell your folks about my coffee and cinnamon rolls. They'd make a great addition to any breakfast they might be thinking of serving up on the hill."

Jessie nodded. "We'll do that."

After Del returned to his work, Jessie and Daniel ate in silence, both gazing out the window at the people walking along the quiet Main Street. It was so very different from Market Street in San Francisco, where people hustled and bustled like they were always running late. Here, time seemed to stand still.

Finally seeing a group of boys Daniel's age, Jessie motioned with her chin for him to turn and look behind him. Outside, five boys in jeans and T-shirts were carrying nets and fishing poles and heading toward the marina. "There you go, sport."

Daniel looked over his shoulder before turning to her and wrinkling his nose. "They're going fishing."

"So?"

"I hate fishing."

Jessie smiled at the memory of the one and only fishing trip their dad had ever taken them on. Daniel spent the entire time being mortified that fish were tortured.

"Look. They're not really going fishing any more than I really went to the library all those times I told Mom and Dad I had a study group."

"Really?"

"Really. They're just going to go mess around. Go on and ask them if they'll show you some of the cool fishing spots in town. I'll bet they'd dig that."

Daniel looked unsure. "I don't know...there's lots of work Mom is gonna want us to do back at the inn, and-"

"And that dumb inn isn't going anywhere. Go on now and make some friends. It's what Mom and Dad would want you to do."

"You sure?"

Watching Daniel open the door, hesitate, and then jog over to the group of boys, Jessie felt a pang. She hadn't realized how much the move had affected her little brother, and was slightly envious at how easily boys were able to instantly bond. It did her heart good to see him making friends, and no matter what her parents said, she felt that letting him take the day off to play was far healthier than working him to death.

Pulling her leather bound journal out, Jessie looked up one last time to see Daniel running onto the marina with five other laughing boys. Yes, Daniel would be all right. Daniel seemed to always be all right.

When his blond hair disappeared, Jessie uncapped her fountain pen and began writing.

Every morning, I wake up, surprised and disappointed to find I am still here. Daniel thinks the house is haunted, and I have to admit, this old place groans and moans worse than an old woman. We're almost done with the room preps on 2 to get them ready for painting, but my God, there is so much work to do. I am in hell. I can't wait to have the gang up here. Maybe together we'll be able to see if there's anything worth seeing in this town. I bought a phone card yesterday and used the whole 60 minutes talking to Wendy. Her world now seems so far from mine--like time has stopped for me. I can see how distance makes one distant. I didn't really care who Bailey was dating or that the twins got busted for spraying graffiti. Suddenly, that all seems so...useless and dumb. I guess I wanted Wendy to understand my pain, to take more of an interest in what I'm feeling, but she seemed so uninterested. I'm sure I bored her to tears with tales of the inn, but they're all I have. God, isn't that pathetic? If it weren't for Daniel, I'd have taken the bus home, but I don't have the heart to leave him alone on the hill...not yet. Maybe when he gets more settled. Maybe when

"Excuse me, got a smoke?"

Jessie glanced up from her journal, surprised. "What?"

"Cigarettes. Do you have any I can bum?" A boy her age leaned over the chair in the booth. The pierced eyebrow, dyed black hair that hung to his shoulders, a tattered leather jacket, and several silver bracelets screamed city dweller.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Reaching into her purse, Jessie took her pack out and handed it to the kid. He looked her age at first glance, but he could have been older. It was hard to tell with these Oregon kids. They were so different from the kids she'd known. They seemed both younger and less with it than her California friends.

Taking a cigarette out, he handed the pack back to her. To her surprise, Jessie waved it off. "Keep 'em." She hadn't smoked since they'd left for Oregon. Now was as good a time as any to quit. An expensive and stupid habit she'd picked up in a moment of immature rebellion.

"Nasty habit," the boy said, sticking the cigarette behind his ear.

Jessie shrugged. "It used to work for me. Guess I'm over it."

"Good for you." The boy stuck his hand in Jessie's direction. "I'm Tanner. Tanner Dodds."

"Jessie Ferguson."

"Your parents bought the Money Pit Inn." It wasn't a question.

"God, does everyone know everyone's business in this place?"

"Almost. Gossip is our main course here. Without it, we would wither and die, right Delmar?"

Del shook his head. "Don't go gettin' that girl into trouble just yet, Tanner. Try to behave yourself this once."

Tanner laughed good-naturedly and Jessie instantly liked him "So, Jessie Ferguson, Mistress of the Great Money Pit, what are you writing?"

A slight blush crawled up Jessie's face and landed on her cheeks as she closed her journal. "Just some thoughts, that's all."

"I've had those on occasion. Nastier habit than smoking." Tanner slid the cigarette from his ear and motioned to her empty mug. "Grab a refill and keep me company while I slowly kill myself. Delmar never lets me smoke in here."

"Ya shouldn't be smoking at all, Tanner," Del returned, not unkindly. "And the refill is for the young lady, Tanner, not you."

"Damn it, Delmar, I hate it when you're onto me."

"Which is always."

Tossing a dollar on Jessie's table, Tanner then started out the door.

"What's that for?" Jessie asked.

"For the coffee refill I'm going to drink. Just black, if you don't mind."

As Delmar refilled her cup, he nodded toward Tanner. "Be careful of that one, Jessie. He breaks all kinds of laws...and hearts."

Outside, Tanner held up the cup to salute Del before taking a sip. "Delmar's not so bad for an old coot. He means well. Most of the other townies don't even let me in their shops."

"Why not?"

Tanner flicked a lighter and lit his cigarette. "Look at me. They think I look like a shoplifter, a teen thug, your mama's worse nightmare."

Jessie watched him inhale a lungful of smoke before asking, "Are you?"

Tanner grinned. He had perfect teeth and one small dimple on his right cheek. "I could be, I suppose."

"That didn't answer the question."

Tanner studied Jessie before shaking his head. "I have a bad, yet undeserved, reputation. It's the black leather jacket." Tanner inhaled again and blew his smoke away from Jessie. "But no, I'm not a thief. I like my freedom too much to risk doing something stupid like stealing something I can afford to buy."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Here, here, as in New Haven? Nope. I was born in Portland and my parents moved down here when my Dad's trust fund kicked in. There are butt loads of trust funders here on the coast."

"Really?"

"Sure. Money goes further here than in California or Portland or Seattle." Tanner drew a long drag off his cigarette. "So, Jessie Ferguson, enough about me. I'm boring. What's your story? Your parents trust funders who decided to drop their wad in The Pit?"

Jessie shook her head. "Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid. My parents had a dream of running a Victorian bed and breakfast while simultaneously saving their two children from the ravages of the Bay Area. In a nutshell."

Tanner studied her through the smoke he blew out. "Tough nut."

Jessie sighed and ran her hand through her bangs. "It feels like it sometimes. My folks think California has gotten mean and competitive, so they cashed in and dragged us up here."

"Kicking and screaming?"

Jessie sighed. It wouldn't do for her to trash this kid's home turf. "Sort of. It's very...different up here."

"That's an understatement and a half. Oregon is about ten years behind the times in education, fashion, music, and culture. You must be in shock."

Jessie shrugged. "I don't have time to be in shock. My parents are trying to get the inn ready to open before winter."

"Slave labor?"

Jessie laughed. "Ab-so-lute-ly."

"So, was that your little bro' going off with Chris and them?"

Jessie nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Tanner studied the lit end of the cigarette with eyes the color of caramel. "I'm not the poster child for well behaved guys, but Chris is bad news. I'd keep an eye on him."

Jessie straightened up. "Bad news, how?"

"Well, the kid's only eleven, but I think he's following in his brother's footsteps as a doper." Jessie started toward the marina, but Tanner grabbed her. "It's just gossip at this point. I wouldn't go bustin' in on your little brother's good time just yet. I shouldn't have even brought it up. It was unfair of me."

Jessie pulled her arm away, but kept staring in the direction of the marina. "I'd kill anyone who gets Daniel into drugs."

Tanner lifted his pierced eyebrow.

Jessie turned and stared at him. It was if he could see right through her, and the feeling was disquieting. "Look, it's okay if I do...did drugs, but woe betide the asshole who drags my brother down. I've been there, and it ain't pretty."

Tanner nodded slightly. "Ah. I see."

Jessie frowned, avoiding further eye contact. She felt as if he were inside her head, reading her thoughts and knowing more about her than she wanted to let on. "He's a good kid and I want him to stay that way. You can spread that around when the gossip train slows down."

"You're a good sister, then."

Jessie shrugged. "Yeah, well, if I am, it's the only thing I'm good at."

"I doubt that. Maybe you just haven't found your niche yet." Tanner's exhaled smoke met with the fog and danced away from them.

"The curse of the teenager, I suppose."

"We spend our lives looking for that one place to belong where we can actually accomplish something with our limited time on this planet. The cosmic joke is that you'll never find it."

Jessie cocked her head. Who was this guy? Before she could reply, two boys Tanner's age strolled over from across the street and insinuated themselves on their conversation. Both wore skateboarding T-shirts, jeans, and scuffed up 'boarding tennis shoes.

"Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, this is Jessie Ferguson, future owner of the Money Pit."

"No kidding?"

"Jessie, this is Randy and Brad, two of the town's most notorious dope smokers and car thieves."

"Hi." What else could she say after an introduction like that?

"So, your parents are trying to fix up The Pit?" asked the tall one named Brad. He reminded her a bit of Lurch from The Munsters.

"Why does everyone keep calling it that?" Jessie asked, suddenly wishing she had one of the cigarettes she'd given away.

It was the kid named Randy who answered, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Four families in the last eight years have sunk money into The Pit trying to make her into something she obviously doesn't want to become. Every one of them either ran out of money or out of luck before they could complete the job."

Jessie glanced over at Tanner, who was studying her intensely. He wasn't handsome or cute, and he was in bad need of a good haircut, but there was something very charming about his demeanor. "Just what does that mean?"

Tanner shrugged. "That so far, no one has succeeded in taming her. Painted ladies are like rare and exotic birds. They can only be caught and caged if they want you to catch them."

There was that feminine usage for a thing again. "You're saying the house doesn't want to be a beautiful bed and breakfast?"

Tanner flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it out with his heel. Then he did something Jessie had never seen: he bent down, picked the crushed butt up, and flicked it into the garbage can. "You oughtta look up the history of the house. Some really twisted shit happened there."

Jessie thought about the voices Daniel had been hearing. "Like what?"

"Hey guys," Randy said, motioning across the street. "Crazy Ceara is out this morning and heading our way." Randy pointed to an old woman wearing layers of different colored scarves like a Hungarian gypsy. She walked slowly, but very purposefully, her scarves whirling about her like a pinwheel.

"She is such a cuckoo," Brad added, pointing at his temple and drawing circles in the air.

"Leave her alone, guys," Tanner said softly. "I'd hate to have to kick your asses."

"But she's nutso, man, and she's coming straight at us."

"Yeah, Tanner, you don't want her to vex us or anything."

"That would be hex you moron, and that's not what she does. Now zip your mouths. I told you how I feel about that crap."

Before either of the boys could reply, the old woman walked right past them and straight for Jessie, who backed up until she was against the building. The old woman stared hard into Jessie's face, drilling her with eyes that were the iciest blue Jessie had ever seen. A shock of white hair poked out from under her purple scarf and she blew a puff straight up and off her face. The woman looked just like a Roma, with fold upon fold of bright silk flowing at the slightest touch from the ocean breeze.

When at last the old woman spoke, her voice did not match her aged appearance. It was soft and melodic, with a pointedness that gave Jessie the chills. "You are not in hell, young lady. You are where you're supposed to be. Remember that. Remember."

"Excuse me-"

But the old woman turned and kept walking, leaving the small group to stare after her.

"Told you she was crazy," Randy said, shaking his head. "Come on, Tanner, let's get going. I only have the shop until nine."

Tanner waved for his friends to go on without him. "I'll catch up in a minute."

When Randy and Brad took off, Tanner took a step closer to Jessie. "Ceara scare you?"

Jessie started to nod, then shook her head. She couldn't get the image of those blue eyes out of her mind. "I don't frighten easily, but that was way weird. Who is she anyway?"

Tanner pointed down the road from where the woman had come. A small, intricately carved sign read Madame Ceara and beneath it, in smaller print, sees all. A palm and four Tarot cards were painted beneath it. "She's the local fortune teller. Been here for years and years. No one really remembers New Haven without her."

"She's a palm reader?"

"Of sorts. Lots of the old townies swear by her. She has a pretty decent following in Florence and Yachats as well. She goes by Madame, so if you hear people referring to something Madame said or Madame predicted, that's who they're talking about."

"Why did the guys call her crazy?"

Tanner shrugged. "She sees things. She talks to the air. You know, all that weird stuff that scares little kids."

Jessie studied Tanner. "Does she scare you?"

"Not anymore. Personally, I don't think she's crazy any more than you or I. I think it's just part of her gig, her mystique. It works for her, too, because she has quite a client base. Can't be a palm reader and be normal. Know what I mean? Look, I really need to get going, but would you mind if I came up to The Pit sometime?"

Jessie stared at this interesting man-boy with his studded leather jacket and eyebrow piercing. Oh sure, he'd be just the ticket to get her sent home, all right. One look at him, and Reena would be sure she was doing drugs again. That sort of prejudgment was on the first page of the Christian Hypocrite's Handbook. Judge not too slowly, lest ye be judged first. They'd have a field day with the likes of Tanner, but what more could they do to her? What more could they take away?

"Sure. I'll be there all summer."

"Great. It was nice meeting you, Jessie Ferguson. Oh, and by the way, you have killer hair."

As Tanner walked away, Jessie could only shake her head and put her hands in her pockets. She wasn't cold as much as she was a little wiggy. She returned to her booth inside and quickly opened her journal. Her hand was shaking as she flipped to the last page. Sure enough, there were her own words jumping off the page and into her face. I'm in hell. Slamming the book shut, Jessie stared for a long time at the sign down the street swinging slightly in the breeze.

"Remember..." Jessie murmured. "Remember what?"