“Ah. Francis’ sister. My sister-in-law. You’re going to love her, I promise.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said, trying to hide my discomfort at the thought of sticking around long enough to get to know Francis’ family. The last thing I wanted to do was try to make a long-lost connection with extended family…

Sara was my mother’s sister; and although I’d met her husband Francis when I was little, I knew very little about the man. When my mother mentioned her sister in the past—which wasn’t often—she rarely brought up her husband. And I didn’t remember meeting him as a child either, most of my memories from that time being smudgy or non-existent…

The last time I saw them was at my mother’s funeral, I realized. As though becoming a young single mother wasn’t hard enough, I’d lost my own mother to cancer before the age of twenty. I wasn’t used to having family support, so this whole arrangement felt beyond strange. Now, being here and seeing the creepy house and the crumbling grounds, the whole thing felt even stranger.

As we stepped over the threshold, Sara carrying my suitcase despite my protests, I took a deep breath. I was so happy to see my daughter again, but also jittery and nervous, adrenaline running through me like a live wire.

“They already went upstairs,” came a gruff voice from somewhere deeper in the house.

“Francis, come see your niece,” Sara scolded, motioning for me to take a seat on an uncomfortable-looking red velvet chaise lounge. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls which were filled with dog-eared paperbacks, hardcover classics, and an odd assortment of knick-knacks clogging every open nook and space. I met the glassy eyes of a dusty porcelain doll, and then my eyes drifted to a bizarre line of oil paintings on the wall.

There was a tug of recognition … a flutter of something remembered, then lost.

The room had a dampness to it, triggering another memory … one that was so fleeting I couldn’t quite grasp it. My eyes traveled the wallpaper-coated walls and high ceilings. Despite the fancy furnishings and crown molding, there were dark water spots everywhere. And cobwebs in the corners, I noted, shuddering again. Please don’t let there be many spiders here.

Moments later, a scruffy man with white hair and a beard emerged, his wide neck and shoulders taking up the entire doorway between what appeared to be the kitchen and great room.

He nodded at me, frowning. “Nice to see you again, Norah. I pray you’re staying out of trouble now?” he barked.

Taken aback, I could only nod. I looked over at Sara, but her eyes were elsewhere, staring up the steep set of red-painted stairs.

“Girls! Are you ready to come down and meet our guest, Norah?” she shouted.