When I woke, Jack was gone and it was quiet in the house. I lifted myself out of bed and walked down the hallway, stopping for a moment to inspect an old black-and-white portrait that hung on the far wall. The man, with his suit and middle-parted hair, startled me. People always seemed so irritated in these portraits. He was quite expressionless; the vertical line of his mouth indicated neither a frown nor a smile. I thought it was strange I hadn’t noticed him the night before.

“Jack?” I called.

There was no response.

I began descending the staircase, each step creaking as it bore my weight. Each step bringing the downstairs area further into view.

As I reached the halfway point, I glanced down at my bare feet, feeling as though I’d stepped in something warm and sticky, but there was nothing there. When I lifted my head, the man in the painting was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his face twisted into something unrecognizable, moaning loudly.

I screamed and dropped onto the stairs. Grabbing for the rail, I slid down on my bum. The face continued to weave in on itself, like bread being kneaded, until it settled, fully formed. Caleb was standing there, smiling politely.

“I’m so sorry, dear.” He moved toward me, helping me to my feet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I was trembling; my legs shook as I held my hand to my chest, exhaling through my mouth. “I’m easy to startle.”

“Are you sure?” He was wearing the same outfit from the day before. “I just wanted to make sure you kids made out okay.”

“Oh, yes.” I was still clutching the rail with my sweaty palm. “Let me grab my purse to pay.”

“Consider it my treat, in honour of your grandparents.” He nodded his head benevolently.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“I insist.” He put his hand on his heart. “Just come back and see us again soon, okay?”

“Okay.” I made an effort to smile. “Thank you.”

The old man headed for the door. “One last thing, Grace.” He stopped, turning once again to face me. “You’ve always had the ability to see signs. Don’t ignore them.”

“Excuse me?”

He opened the screen door. “I said, don’t forget to sign our guestbook.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” I watched him leave before hurrying over and slamming the door. My hands continued to shake so I shut my eyes, breathing, counting. Trying to forget. Trying to remember. One, two, three, four, five. Five, four, three, two, one.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed the table in the entryway with a coil-bound, golden guestbook sitting on top. I began thumbing through it until I came across my grandfather’s writing: Max, Sophia, William, Grace, and Annabelle. I felt a pang of grief as the door opened, and I swung around to see Jack. “Thank God,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Come here and look at this.” I reached for him. “It’s from my grandparents’ last visit with us.”