Seven Hills Road

By Ali Ziegler

When Starla and Jason Kingsley tire of the frenetic lifestyle they lead in Chicago, they decide to make a change. He's a corporate attorney and she's a college economics professor. Tired of dealing with acquisitions and mergers, Jason longs to set up his own shingle and practice regular law. With online classrooms, Starla can teach from anywhere. Together, they decide to move out of the city, to a place they can call home, a place where they can start a family.
When Starla first sees the hundred-year-old mansion on a lonely country road, she feels strangely attracted to the home. Locals warn them the house is haunted, but the rumors do not detract the Kingsleys. As they work to refurbish the long-neglected home, they find clues linking back to the original owners, Henry and Stephania Atherton. When Starla sees ghostly lights drifting through the fields, hears footsteps in the attic and forlorn cries at night, she begins to think that the rumors surrounding the house are true. It is said that Stephania haunts the place looking for her husband, Henry, who died in a tragic farming accident. . .or did he? And will the same end come for Jason Kingsley, as well?

The story is told from alternating viewpoints, those of Starla and Stephania, one hundred years apart. The trials that both women go through echo off one another, coming to a dramatic conclusion when Stephania’s spirit is finally set free of her beloved home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ali Ziegler
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301653638

Ali Ziegler

I've been writing most of my life...and was published for the first time in 1995, in Dog Fancy Magazine. Since then, my articles have been featured in several magazines such as Western Horseman, True Love, Country Women, Reminisce, Women's World and more. A long-time member of Red Mountain Writer's Group, I owe my cohorts there a world of thanks for their suggestions and ideas. Born and raised in northern Illinois in the DeKalb area, I've lived in Mesa, Arizona for more than two decades. I an single and have two kids, Shawna and Chance. I also have an ancient Siberian Husky named Cleo, as well as Rocky, my sweet-tempered Boxer. I am also owned by a flame point Siamese named Frank, who is most assuredly the loudest cat in the nation. In my spare time, I like to buy and sell antiques and collectibles, vintage jewelry in particular. When I am not writing or reading, I enjoy laboring over cross stitch designs that are so complicated they make me cuss out loud. I love the blues and vintage rock from the 70s and 80s. A Sunday afternoon spent doing the New York Times crossword puzzle (in ink, of course!)is an afternoon well-spent. A Sunday night spent watching Dexter on Showtime makes the day perfect. Determined to enjoy life, using this ridiculous (some might say warped) sense of humor I was given helps make it a fun ride. . .

Book preview

Seven Hills Road

By Ali Ziegler

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Ali Ziegler

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or deceased, is co-incidental.

Dedicated to Shawna and Chance

The House on Seven Hills Road

The house sits high, perched atop the seventh hill. A sentinel stand of white aspens line the driveway, appearing as solemn as soldiers, keeping watch when no one else can. Time and the elements have taken toll and the once-grand house rots away under years of neglect. The wraparound porch sags lazily at one end, as if the house is resting and is too tired to sit up. Weathered paint left behind bleached grey bones. Around the side, a broken window attests to the home’s emptiness; a sun-faded wisp of lace flutters in the breeze.

The once-grand homestead seems forlorn, ready to crumble under the slightest breath of wind. But there’s something else. Anticipation, maybe?

The house looks across the fields. It watches. It waits.

CHAPTER ONE

The car idled at the intersection of Meridian and Baseline Roads, nose pointed south, wheels angling left.

Are you certain we passed it already? Jason asked.

His wife shrugged. According to the GPS, it doesn’t exist. According to the realtor, if we got to Old State Road, we’ve gone too far.

He let out a noise that sounded like a cross between air escaping a balloon and a snort. "Just how far out are we now?’

Her lips twitched. Well, you’ve heard of Bumfug, Egypt?

He nodded. Someplace like that, yes, although I think it’s called—

Never mind that. In any case, Seven Hills Road is three clicks past BFE.

He laughed and pulled a u-turn, headed back west on Baseline. Starla read the directions out loud. Look for a large fruit tree on the south side of the main road. Seven Hills Road is a gravel road tucked in between two cornf—Wait! I think that’s it, right there. She turned in her seat as her husband zipped by.

What?

I think I caught a glimpse of an old road marker.

Jason stopped and pulled another U-ey. Looks like Domino’s won’t be able to find us, he said drily.

Shush! Now slow down, slow, slow. There! she said triumphantly, pointing at an old road sign. Unlike all the other markers of bright green with reflective white, the old relic was white with faded black lettering.

Honey, I don’t think that’s it. Looks more like a farmer’s access lane, you know, to get in and out of the fields with a tractor. What’s that sign say?

She rolled down the window and squinted. Finally she nodded. This is it. Seven Hills.

If you’re sure. . . He cautiously pulled onto the old road, which was barely more than a path after years of disuse. Corn grew robustly on both sides of the lane, making it seem as if they were traveling through a green cave.

Here’s the first hill, Starla said, pointing out the evident.

Hmmm. I’d hardly call this a hill. Speed bump is more like it.

Yeah? I’d like to see you ride your bicycle up that ‘speed bump’ without huffing and puffing. Pointing ahead, she opened her mouth, but Jason butted in.

Yes, honey, I see. Hill two. It’s like we’re on a roller coaster.

They continued on, Starla growing more excited by the minute. The house came into view as they crested the fifth hill. A large old three-story Victorian, its size was evident from the distance.

Jason slowed the car to a stop. Great gravy, that thing’s a monster. Do you have any idea how much that’ll cost us to heat in the winter?

Oh, thousands, I’m sure, she said, almost gaily. Come on, keep moving.

Jason did as his wife demanded, but as he reached the top of the sixth hill, he slowed again. Now much closer to the house, he could see the faded wood, the paint burnt off long ago by the wind and the sun. Starla snuck a glance at him, certain he was calculating the cost of repainting the place. They could afford it, she knew. The asking price was ridiculously low, almost a giveaway, really. Of course, they’d probably end up spending double or even triple to renovate it.

As her husband reached the driveway near the top of the seventh hill, her heart skipped a beat. She’d told herself not to go nuts when she saw it, but the location really was perfect. Seventy-five miles west of Chicago, it was far enough away to be secluded from the crime and traffic that were driving them from the big city, yet it was close enough that a day trip to see the Sox play or to visit the Art Museum wouldn’t be difficult. The seclusion was the main attraction. In fact, with most of the land given way to corn and soybean fields, their nearest neighbor was over two miles distant and the closest town was a good seven miles away.

Starla was a college marketing professor, something she could now do from home, thanks to the university offering online classes. Jason was an attorney, after a stint in corporate law making tons of money, they agreed that they had to change their lifestyle or burn out at an early age. Together they’d decided that if they went with this home, he could set up office in the town Whitman, dealing with car accidents and divorces instead of corporate mergers.

He made his way up the driveway and pulled to a stop at the side of the house. This close, the place looked a lot more dismal, but Starla wanted to reserve judgment until she saw the interior. Jason wasn’t so circumspect; as he got out of the car, he pointed to the front porch. If it’s sagging due to foundation, it would cost less to tear the place down and start anew than to re-shore a house this size.

Starla chose not to hear him, and instead spun around to get the full 360-degree view. This is incredible. Afternoon sunlight glinted off a creek that bordered the woods, and the color green spread as far as the eye could see. Corn and soybean fields patchworked their way across the verdant land. The edge of a large forest started about half a mile downhill from the house, so dense it was impossible to see where it actually ended.

It looks like a postcard. Turning back to her husband she said, C’mon, Jase. Why not take a peek while we wait for the realtor? Looks like we beat her here.

Yeah, probably because she’s driven past the road ten times looking for it, just like us.

Ha, ha. She linked her arm in his. Let’s just walk around. See what there is to see.

I already see a money pit. Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?

She turned to face him. I’m positive. We’ve worked our tails off for the past eight years. We could go on in the way we are, stressed to the max, paying rent on an apartment that neither of us really like, working twelve-hour days and never seeing each other. Or, we can buy a place away from it all, and really start enjoying our lives. If not this money pit, then another, someplace else. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. We agreed. It’s time to start a family. We’ll both be thirty next year, and if we don’t start now, sometime soon we’ll realize it’s too late and the opportunity will have passed us by.

We’d better check to see if the nearest neighbor also serves as a midwife. ‘Cuz the closest hospital is just too far away, and you know that I pass out at the sight of blood.

She took an ineffective swing at him, then stopped and pointed down the hill. Look, here comes the realtor! Or at least I think it’s her.

Oh, it’s the realtor, all right. No one else would be crazy enough to drive down that road if they didn’t have to. And it will be impassable if it snows, and we’ll probably get stuck on the drive when it rains and—

Starla silenced him with a dig to the ribs. Shhhh! She’ll hear you.

Good, he whispered back, as the car slowed to a stop. The less enthusiastic we are, the lower the price will be.

Hi, kids! Nancy Neman called out as she stepped from the car. I see you found the place okay. So what do you think of the view?

It’s spectacular! Starla enthused, then with a sidelong glance at her husband she said, But that long driveway looks like it could get awfully muddy if it rained too hard.

Nancy tossed her head back and let out a laugh. Oh, I can dad-gum guarantee that, honey. Weren’t you the one who wanted isolation? Well, with this place, you have it. In spades. Now, you ready for the grand tour? She led the way to the side door, obviously not wanting to test the strength of the front porch. Digging around in a voluminous handbag, she fished out a key triumphantly, inserted it into the lock and turned. The door refused to budge.

Someone doesn’t want us in there, Jason said, in his best Hannibal Lecter voice.

Knock it off, said Starla. Jase, give it a push.

He leaned into the door as he turned the handle. It opened with an eerie creaking noise befitting a haunted house. The interior was dark and musty and more than a little intimidating. Turning back to his wife with a big, cheesy grin he said, Ladies first?

Whatever! she said, pushing him aside. Nancy produced a flashlight from her bag, and the three stepped into the side entry. Nancy played the light around the small room, empty but for a row of coat hooks along one wall. An old moth-eaten denim jacket still hung from one of the hooks.

Mudroom, said Nancy. Place to leave soggy boots and jackets and—well, never mind. The kitchen should be straight ahead.

Jason stepped around the women and pushed the door open. Enough light came through from the broken window above the sink for Nancy to flip off the flashlight.

Starla took in the original white clapboard cupboards and hardwood floors, and closed her eyes for a few moments, envisioning a large granite-topped island and brushed steel appliances. Opening her eyes, she noticed with some satisfaction that there was space for a small table in the far corner. An eat-in kitchen was one of her husband’s requirements. She glanced at him and was amused to see the grimace he wore. Likely calculating the costs of her imported granite counters and Sub-Zero refrigerator. She caught his eye and winked.

Flipping the flashlight back on, Nancy said, According to the floor plan they sent me, that door should lead to a hall, and the formal dining room is right across the way.

When she opened the dining room door, Starla let a gasp escape her lips. A beautiful mahogany table with eight chairs took up the center of the room. Does the furniture come with?

Nancy shrugged. I don’t see why not. I mean, this place has been empty since the mid-eighties. Surely the rightful owner should have stepped forward by now, right? She played the flashlight around the room. Take a look at the crown molding. You’ll only see stuff that well- crafted in a house this old. She looked at both faces, and apparently seeing more hope or something in Starla’s eyes, she directed her attention to the fairer half. Let’s continue on with the tour. There’s an old maid’s room off the kitchen. You could use that as a spare bedroom or an office. There’s also a den up the other way. Jason, that would be nice for you, right?

How many rooms does this place have? he asked.

Well, there’s the kitchen, dining, maid’s room, den, living room and parlor down here. So that makes six on the main floor. Oh, and there’s a small bath tucked in down there by the maid’s room. Nothing to get excited about now, but at least you know that somewhere along the way, plumbing was added. No need to go to the expense of piping it over from the kitchen.

No, but there’s plenty of other expenses, he replied, then winced as his wife’s elbow caught him in the ribs. Straightening, he asked about the number of bedrooms upstairs.

Five on the second floor, then there’s the old nursery on the top floor. Unfortunately, there’s only one more bathroom. That’s the way they did it in back then. However, when I looked at the floor plans, I noticed that the smallest bedroom is directly behind the master bedroom. You could always turn that into a master bath. Let’s finish looking around down here, then we’ll go upstairs for a peek. Starla, you’re going to love the view from the main bedroom.

An hour later, the trio stood in front of the house, their tour finished. Well, what did you think? the realtor asked.

It’s in a lot better shape than I thought it would be, Jason admitted. I thought for sure it would be overtaken by wildlife and the floors rotted away. After all, it’s been empty a long time, right?

At least 25 years.

How is that possible? I mean, how could a place like this stay empty for so long?

The realtor smiled. You saw the drive up here. Few people seek this kind of remoteness. Besides, this place is property of the state. They’ve been leasing the farmland for decades, and I suppose they made enough money off that to forget about the house. But you know, times are lean, and Illinois is selling off old properties to try to bring in some money.

Yeah, but how long has the state owned the place?

I don’t know. I suppose ever since the original owners left. It was built in the 1910s, so maybe from the forties or fifties?

But why’d they stop leasing the house along with the land?

I don’t know the answer to that, either. But I’d say that it was probably because it wasn’t fiscally rewarding.

Seemingly satisfied with the realtor’s answers, he nodded. And the well has been found sufficient? And the septic tank doesn’t leak?

One nice thing about the state being the owner, they really checked the place out before putting it on the market. It’s structurally sound, with no immediate foreseen problems. Although it comes as is, she added.

Jason nodded again. And you said there are a couple of places in town that I could rent for an office? Starla let out a shriek and threw herself into her husband’s arms. He held her off with a grin. Hey, I’m not saying yes, yet. Just checking our options is all.

Nancy said, Well, why don’t we drive back to town and I can show you those locations. Maybe that will help in the decision-making process.

As they followed the realtor back into town, Jason asked, What’d you think? Or do I even need to ask?

I loved the view. The rooms are large, the layout is nice, but I think you’re right in the fact that it needs too much work. I’m not sure we should make such a huge lifestyle change and have to practically rebuild an entire house as well. Something will give, and I just don’t want it to be us. I love us. She picked his hand up from the center console and brought it to her lips. Besides, it’s really out here, and I’m a little frightened over what a heavy snow or a bad thunderstorm would mean if we couldn't get out of our driveway or down the road. Starla wasn’t sure how she’s gone from gung-ho to so-so, while Jason appeared to be moving from so-so to gung-ho.

I can buy a snowmobile, to use if we really need to get out. And we could always change the maid’s room into a pantry/laundry room. It’s big enough to hold a washer, dryer and a freezer. We could lay in all sorts of things. Raise a cow and—

No, I will not feed and care for an animal, and then eat it.

So you’re suddenly a vegetarian?

No, I just don’t want to ever look in the eyes of the hamburger I’m going to eat later.

Jason let out a bark of laughter and swerved a little.

But we could do chickens. Fresh eggs, that’d be nice. And I could plant a little garden, and we could freeze stuff like beans and corn. She paused. It’s not like we can ride the elevator down to the lobby, go out and walk four doors down to the bodega if we get an ice cream craving at one in the morning. I don’t know that I want to give that up. Besides, I don’t think we can afford the place. I mean, the house payments would be a lot less than our current rent, but we’ll have to spend a serious chunk to get it up to speed. I don’t want to wipe out our entire savings, Jase.

I thought about that. It comes with some six hundred acres that they lease. That lease ends when this current crop is harvested. We can ask the old lessee to stay, or find another, and we could raise the per acreage fees just a little.

Yeah, but what if the power goes out? Or the well goes dry?

I’ll get a generator. And we’re on top of a water table that won’t exhaust itself. Why are you worrying so much? I though you liked the place.

I did. I do. I’m just starting to rethink this back-to-nature idea. I mean, I like the idea of working from home, but I can do that in Chicago, as well.

As they neared the city limits, Jason nodded at the sign proclaiming ‘Whitman, Illinois Population 1,100.’ Look, here we are. That didn’t take long. What, ten minutes? Ten minutes from civilization. If you want Chunky Monkey at one a.m., I‘ll drive into town for you.

As they rolled into the downtown area, she smirked. I think you might have a hard time finding any place that stays open past five p.m. here. But I appreciate the thought.

He laughed out loud as he came to a stop in front of the library. "Just where is this parking lot anyway?’

Nancy said we can’t miss it. Right along Route 30, with the railroad tracks behind it. She craned her head to look behind them. And since we just crossed the tracks, I’d say you need to turn left.

They could see the realtor waving gaily from the curb about a block away, so Jason rolled down his window and waved back, then made his way to the lot. She sure seems happy.

In this economy, she’s probably thrilled to death to make a sale.

As he helped his wife out of the car, he looked into her eyes. Does that mean we want to buy it?

She looked back at him, small smile playing on her lips. You’re the husband. It’s your decision.

He snorted. As if you’d ever defer to me if you really wanted something. Come on, Nancy’s waiting.

As they paused at the curb to allow an eastbound semi to go by, Starla looked at the businesses and found it humorous that she could see the entire two-block downtown area by simply