Ann Martin - Kristy And The Haunted Mansion

"What?" I asked. "What are you saying?" Suddenly Buddy had my full attention.

"The caretaker. He looks like Will. Or Will

looks like him, I guess," said Buddy.

I pictured Will. Buddy was right! "You know," I said to Buddy. "I think you've got something there." All of a sudden I knew, just knew that the caretaker and Will were one and the same person. "Charlie," I said. "Can you help them finish up in here?" I had some detective work to do. I headed back to the kitchen and found Bart and the old man talking about fishing.

"Um, excuse me," I said. "Mr. Blackburn?" I watched the man's face. "How did you know my name?" he asked. "Just a hunch," I said. "We found some newspaper articles — "

"Oh, so you think you know the whole story, do you?" Mr. Blackburn said suddenly, sounding fierce. "Well, there's more to it than you can read in the paper."

"There is?" I said, leaning toward him. "Can you tell us?"

"It's a sad tale," he said. "About a man who lost the love of his life and never got over it. That man is me. After Dorothy disappeared, I — I — well, I just never really recovered. I bought this house, and I kept it the way it was when Dot — that's what I called her — lived here. I don't know why, except that somehow it's a comfort to me. But I can't bear to live here, amidst all these memories." He

gestured, as if to include the whole house. "That's why I live down in the cottage."

Wow. Once he started talking, he had a lot to say! "What about the haunting?" I asked, and held my breath.

"Haunting?" He snorted. "There is no haunting. Those stories are just tales made up by ignorant people looking for amusement." "But the lights?" I asked. "And the smoke from the chimney?"

"All my doing," he said. "After all, to keep the house this nice, I have to spend some time in here. I don't mean to make the place look haunted, but people believe what they want to believe."

By this time, the kids had returned to the kitchen, and they'd caught on immediately. "But what about the ghosts, Mr. Blackburn?" asked Jackie.

"There are no ghosts," said Mr. Blackburn firmly. "Not in this house, not anywhere. Ghosts are merely figments of the imagination."

Jackie looked disappointed. "Well, I'll be back down at the cottage if you need anything," said Mr. Blackburn, standing up abruptly. Then he smiled at us. "And, by the way, I'd be honored if you'd call me Will." He was out the door before anyone could say anything else.

"Wow!" said Bart. "That's quite a story." "Sure is," I replied. I turned to Jackie. "Now you can go home and tell Shea that there's no Sawyer Road ghost after all. There was a mystery here, but I think we've solved it. It makes a good story, anyway, right?"

Jackie nodded. But he still looked disappointed. I guess he had really been hoping for ghosts.

Chapter 13.

"There!" said Charlie, dusting off his hands. "I think that’s everything." He stood back from the van and nodded. "All packed up and ready to go. Now we just need word that the bridges are fixed."

After Will Blackburn had left, we'd spent about an hour packing up our stuff, tidying the house — in general, making sure we'd be ready to leave the second we heard that we could. I was so eager to get to a phone that I could hardly stand it. I knew that my family and friends — not to mention the families and friends of the Krashers — would be frantic now that morning had come and we were still missing. Missing, without a trace!

If I'd been able to call someone, I might have enjoyed our adventure more. I mean, there we were, spending the night in a supposedly haunted house. We'd uncovered an amazing, tragic story about the people who had lived

there. And then we'd actually met one of the characters in the story! I knew my friends would be incredibly envious of the experience. Especially Dawn, since there's nothing she loves more than a good ghost story.

But I hadn't enjoyed my adventure, since I was all too aware of the many worried people back in Stoneybrook. And now I had pretty much put the Sawyer mystery behind me. I was just looking forward to being home. Anyway, Will had made it clear that the ghost part of the story was nothing but a story, so no mystery was left anyway.

Once we'd packed the van, there was nothing else to do. The kids became restless. "When do we get to go home?" whined Karen. Joey and Jerry started to squabble with each other over who should get to play third base in the next Krashers game. David Michael wandered over to the front step, sat down, and put his chin in his hands. He looked bored.

"I think these kids need something to do," Bart whispered to me.

"No joke," I said. "But what can we do around here?"

"See that meadow?" Bart pointed to the left side of the house, where I could see a small meadow filled with wildflowers. "Looks like

there's plenty of room there for a ball field. How about it?"

"Great idea!" I said. "We've got all our equipment and everything. But we only have eleven people. How can we play a real game?"

"We can't," said Bart. "But I can hit a lot of balls for fielding practice, and I know a few fun drills we can try, too."

We called the kids over to the van. "How about some softball?" I asked. "Just for fun."

"Yea!" they shouted. We opened the doors of the van, and they jumped in, rummaged around, and came out with mitts, balls, and bats. In five minutes, practice was in full swing.

We had a great time. Bart was in a silly mood, and he hit all kinds of funny balls to the kids: high, high pop-ups, bouncing ground balls, stuff like that. Later, we disguised base-running drills as relay races. The kids loved that. Charlie did, too, and even showed some of the kids how to play "pepper," which is a practice game in which three people alternate batting and catching.

"Whoa!" I heard Charlie call out, as a ball sailed over his head.

"Got it!" I heard someone else say, but I didn't recognize the voice. I turned and saw Will Blackburn dashing across the field. He

was pretty quick, for an old guy. He caught the ball bare-handed and held it up, smiling. We gave him a round of applause.

He walked to where Bart and I were standing, and Charlie jogged over, too. Will was panting a little, but he seemed proud of himself for catching the ball. "Guess I still have a little of the center fielder in me," he said. "Used to play for the local team. Forty years ago, that is!"

"Great catch," said Charlie. "Thanks," said Will. "But I didn't come over here to join your game. I came to let you know that the first bridge is ready for traffic. You can leave any time."

I beamed at Bart, and we gave each other the high five. "Thanks, Mr. Bla — I mean, Will," I said. "Thanks for everything." I turned and cupped my hands around my mouth. "Okay, Krashers!" I yelled. "Let's get going. Next stop, Stoneybrook!" The kids came running.

We said a quick good-bye to Will Blackburn, threw our stuff back into the van, and headed out. Without really meaning to, I held my breath as we passed over the bridge. I guess I didn't trust that it was fixed until we were safely on the other side. The creek was still running fast. The water looked muddy and

lots of twigs and small branches were being swept downstream.

"We made it!" cried Karen, as soon as we'd crossed the bridge. "Now we can go home."

"Yea!" yelled the other kids.

Charlie drove on for a few minutes without saying much. I saw his eyes searching the road. Before long, we came to a small general store and Charlie pulled over. "I'll go in and check on directions," he said to me. "Why don't you call home and tell them we're on our way?"

I hadn't noticed the phone booth before he said that, but as soon as I saw it I was out of the car and dialing my home number.

"Watson?" I said, when he answered. "It's me, Kristy. I'm safe and sound — we all are — and we're on our way home. We were stranded in the storm. We should be there within an hour."