Seeking Oxygen

By Barbara Brown

Jim Logan and his wife, Bernie, move into their dream house in Long Beach, California. Although the house needs work, Jim is a construction superintendent and is happy to live there and take on the responsibility. When hes not fixing up his house, he works two hours away in San Diego, where he hires Diana to be his office manager for the current project.

Diana is beautiful, intelligent, and young. She seems innocent enough, but her arrival comes with unexpected consequences. Jim and Bernie soon realize their home is haunted and that somehow Diana is connected to it. Dianas nearness to the house makes her desperate for attention, and Jim finds himself a victim of her charms.

Whats more, it appears that Jims San Diego construction site might also have a ghost. He recruits experts to unravel the lands mysterious past. Meanwhile, the ghosts of his home are closing in on Bernie, now pregnant, and no ghost hunter can foresee the terror these spirits have in store for the young couple.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Mar 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781458213921

Barbara Brown

God has a plan for your life. Unfortunately, there’s no “yellow brick road” to follow. I’ve come to forks in the road, traffic circles, jug handles (if you live in NJ), driven down one way streets going the wrong way, broken down on the side of the road, ran out of gas and for days remained snowed in up to the windows. My education had nothing at all to do with my life’s various careers. In grammar school I was good at math and a great speller. Who knew in this 21st century it would be obsolete? Later on, Australians were cool, so I married one. We had kids and got divorced. He moved. I got the kids and furniture, a job, things big and small, earth shaking, mind boggling, clothing, feeding (them, their friends and pets), homework, shopping, laundry, cleaning, regular ER visits and uh, let’s see, anything else? Oh, yeah….EVERYTHING. So now I have married kids and several grandchildren. Some of them like me, some of them don’t. Hey, you can’t please everyone. A word to the wise…..don’t bother trying, it doesn’t make a difference. No really, it doesn’t. Of course, it goes without saying I love them all unconditionally. And they’re so considerate; they allow me to prove it constantly! There are stories all around us. Everyone is a story. Your past influences your future. You never know when you’re going to be writing about a character that was just like that someone you knew long ago that teased you, made you cry, you liked and then hated and blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc. It’s all in there somewhere. And when it starts to come out……Surprise, you’re an Author!!

Book preview

1

B ernie’s shiny lips curled up at the corners as she caught herself in the antique bathroom mirror, while quickly brushing through her thick, wavy hair, now beginning to fade into muted shades of brown and gray with wisps of white framing her lightly-wrinkled oval face. A sultry, late spring breeze wafted through the old casement window, teasing open her opaque black gown and baring the skimpy bodice stretched over her still ample breasts. She relished stoking the smoky fire in her hazel eyes, while lusting for her husky younge r man.

Jim, I’ll be right there!

Okay, I’m w-a-i-t-i-n-g!

They had spent a year and four months remodeling the old white, two story farm house, built before the turn of the century. It would have cost less to tear it down and rebuild, Jim had told her, but Bernie had fallen immediately in love with the huge, decaying hulk of a house—it was the just reward for one of their Sunday morning house-hunting forays, this time, into an old upper middle-class Long Beach enclave. Bernie and Jim had married right after college and had been anxiously working for more than a decade to purchase their dream home and then hopefully start a family, and this house spoke to them palpably on both of these matters—it seemed an incredibly comfortable nest to pepper with a brood of little ones.

Satisfied she was finally ready for her husband, Bernie switched off the bathroom light and barefooted, she padded down the hall into the front, master bedroom. The darkness lifted slightly as she was helped on her way by an enormous moon that glowed through the ancient double pane, double hung windows facing the street, windows open to welcome the warm California night air that gave the shear, billowing gold curtains an eerie sheen. By now, having waited long enough, Jim was starting to feel a slight chill and got out of bed, quickly moving to swoosh one of the windows shut as Bernie reached her side of the bed close to the right wall, slid in quickly and put her arms out to welcome Jim back to bed. Meanwhile, his final footstep revealed yet another squeaky floorboard —he was making a mental note to detail this on his lengthy list for their carpenter—as Bernie kissed him hungrily, and soon made the floorboard and all the other pesky problems of the day instantly melt away.

And so it was by now already after the stroke of midnight, and this couple had just fallen into post-coital oblivion, the reward for this Saturday well-spent working on their new home. The shear curtain panels lay still and the last fragrant whiffs of the freshly-extinguished lavender candle hung in the warm air, mingling with the pungent aroma of Bernie and Jim. Actually only a few moments of bliss had come to pass, by now, when Jim roused gently at first, then his eyes flew open.

Oh my God, Bernie, did you leave something burning downstairs? Jim sat up quickly, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke filling his lungs: he was the light sleeper and early in their marriage he had, by dint of professional training, assumed the role of family safety guru, an easy fit for a Construction Engineer. Now he quickly swung his tall, hardened frame over the side of the bed, as Bernie mumbled, No…hon…, and then she heard something that prickled the damp hair on her neck and jolted her wide awake.

LISTEN, Jim, she hissed, reaching for his arm, Come HERE. She clutched for him but wasn’t fast enough.

Meanwhile a strange and obvious din had seeped its way up into the second story. The frightened couple could make out many voices talking animatedly, crackling with laughter—a well-attended and raucous party was obviously fully underway downstairs in the living room beneath the master bedroom. Things grew quiet for a few moments as someone seemed to be telling a story; this was followed by huge waves of laughter sparkling with the tinkle of glasses raised and joined in inebriated camaraderie, as though sanctifying some ancient and special celebration. A piano joined in—a badly out-of-tune upright piano whose player was using a heavy foot on all three peddles. The tinny bar room sounds of an old wartime melody, It’s Three O’clock in the Morning, vibrated through the thin floor of the upstairs bedroom. At the sound of music, Jim had hopped back into bed and he and Bernie clung together fiercely, chilled in spite of the heat, until they realized they were suffocating from the humidity and the terror. Neither of them breathed, afraid of making a sound.

Finally, Jim offered in a raspy whisper something about checking it out. The first stair off the upstairs landing seemed a mile away as he, with a shaking Bernie glued to his back, tiptoed together, inching down the carpeted narrow staircase to the second landing which turned at a ninety degree angle towards the front door below. From there, in a crouched position, it was easy for them to peek through the stairs across the entry hall, through the closed French glass doors and into the living room which was huge and long, pushed out on two sides by large bay windows. Bernie and Jim had fallen hard for the old-fashioned promise of roomy window seating, trendy opaque mini-blinds and a newly restored fireplace in the corner to the right. They had been lovingly customizing the crusty old place, but as the two stretched themselves around the landing curve, trying not to fall down the stairs and reveal themselves, what they saw was anything but what they had been busy creating. The walls of the hall and the living room were now all a pale shade of faded pea green, not fresh Navajo white; the windows were hung with limp, unbleached muslin café curtains, no mini blinds in sight, and there were no window seats—a forest green horsehair sofa with blond legs stretched in front of one bay and a lavender-brocaded Duncan Phyffe wingback chair sat in royal, otherworldly splendor, setting off the other bay window. Several pieces of mixed-period furniture choked the room—a maple, five foot round coffee table anchored it, as it sat in the middle of a faded oriental hook rug. The faux fireplace, painted the same color now as the walls, looked receded and its none-working part, which had since been refurbished, was now closed off with a brass screen. Against all of this new décor, warming the furniture and filling the heavy pottery ashtrays were couples of varying ages, dressed in 1950s evening garb, the women sporting Marilyn Monroe and Dorothy Lamar hairdos, the men’s hair flatly pomaded as was all the rage in the later part of that decade.

Jim absorbed everything while searching anxiously for something to anchor his sense of reality to. Bernie considered for an instant that perhaps this really was a weird dream, except that she really, really knew somehow that both of them were fully awake and that she was all alone in that tight, painfully conscious space between perceiving and disbelief, right before horror takes hold. On one level both of them were mesmerized; on another, they were irritated; the awful smoke would certainly take a while to get rid of; at least now they had a reason for it. Jim wondered if he should have insisted on tearing down the old house. He really wanted the two of them to have sole ownership. What a crazy thought! Would building from the ground up have been a solution? Hell. What was the problem here? He knew that an old place could be a nightmare on many levels—here was one more to add to his list.

Jim put his arms around Bernie and quietly pulled her back up the stairs. They slipped beneath the covers, scrunching them up further around their ears, and snuggling close together they dozed fitfully until the alarm offered up a New Age flute tune and the early California sun intruded on their slumber. Monday and a brand-new week now stretched ahead and Bernie and Jim bravely, albeit cautiously, descended their staircase to life as usual—to the comforting sight of new mini-blinds and Navajo white walls.

2

D iana lifted herself gingerly up the twin grated metal steps and swung into the small construction trailer, as she snagged her long black skirt on the sharp door jamb. Instantly, her nostrils filled with ammonia. Oh no, she thought as she wrinkled her nose, maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake already with this assignment—heavy chemical smells made her nauseous. And it was awfully hot in this tiny trailer for a sultry April day… and really dusty. All the while she sensed someone sitting behind her scanning her every move, and as she turned to the left, her eyes hungrily drinking in everything she could absorb, Diana heard a deep voice call out a warm Hi, and saw a large hand stretched toward her, offering itself for a friendly shake. As she turned around, Diana’s wide blue eyes instantly met two huge sable ones, and at that precise moment in time, when she slipped her small hand into his, a primordial shift of consciousness caught both parties in mid-breath. Diana knew instinctively at that exact instant that she had found her other half, and moreover, that she hadn’t realized until now that she’d been searching for this twin all her life.

Hi! I’m Diana McDowell. And without breaking her gaze she pulled her hand from his slowly and perched on the nearest chair.

In what was just a few seconds, reality as she had known it had been altered forever, and as the moments passed, Diana replied dutifully and enthusiastically to the ensuing interview questions, all the while drinking in her handsome interviewer. The astounding sensation of having found the treasure of her universe was matched by the knowledge that the words expressed between them were a process of convention only—the contract of employment had long ago been agreed upon—perhaps in another era, in another world. As the construction superintendent sitting opposite Diana relaxed into his swivel chair he spread his legs apart comfortably, looking for all the world to her like a sultan appraising an applicant for his harem, and yet he maintained a gentlemanly decorum and exuded an intimate warmth, flashing a huge dimple in his right cheek, another in his chin. His dark blond hair was cut close, and was thinning on top—the white safety helmet, bearing his last name, perched on the file cabinet behind him wasn’t hair friendly, Diana mused. She soaked in his playful grin which encouraged her to further enliven her conversation with snippets of experience from past jobs, as all the while she was thinking, oh my goodness, he looks like a junior version of Uncle Matt—the very same German good looks, the cleft chin, the twinkling dark brown eyes, the sexy uncle I didn’t realize until now I had had such a crush on all my life. But this was the grown up version of that feeling. This was the real deal. Diana was besotted. She knew it meant being completely and unalterably assimilated into a new world.

And your transferrable job skills? He was quizzing her, his eyes shyly teasing her soul. She smiled back and nodded, and up to now, this had been in large part why Diana had never had a problem getting a job, even in different industries. Never had she been more exquisitely grateful than right now that a comfort level with this new construction office position she was assuming was completely justified. It was—and she grinned back at him—perfect for her!

3

O n a cool, gray Monday morning, two weeks later, earth-moving equipment was sculpting a huge, muddy hole in the clay dirt of the San Diego Memorial Hospital construction site. A temporary fence surrounded the space, and inside, about ten yards from the dump trucks and machinery, two men were busy talking. They both wore white, management hardhats and dusty boots. One of these men, the superintendent, James Logan, had agreed to meet with Matt Warner, the architect for the project, who happened to look a little weary from the we ekend.

Jim, how was your flight back?" Matt flashed his perfect white teeth in a knowing grin.

Oh, the usual grinding Horizon Airlines massage. It was good to get away though. Bernie gets lonesome…I wish Long Beach was a bit closer. And how was your hot mystery date?" Jim sneered playfully.

It was another bust. Matt frowned slightly, adding quickly, "But listen, I wanted to tell you that the Pacifica firm is bidding on a huge office complex in the Lakewood area. You’d only be twenty minutes from home. I’ll put in a good word for you, if you like. Of course, we’ve still got a year left to go here, but it will go fast, as smoothly as it’s started, with any kind of luck. Your firm has a reputation to uphold, and I’m sure it will.

Thanks Matt. And so does yours. And I appreciate the offer. Hey, did you bring that fresh set of blueprints for the hospital meeting? It starts at 1 pm. And A.J. is flying in for it…should be here soon, too.

Oh that’s great! I’ve got questions for him. And yes, I have the prints, but I have to run back to the office for extra plan copies…see you at the meeting. Matt nodded good-by to Jim and sprinted over to his gray Cherokee and quickly left the parking lot opposite the site.

Jim smiled to himself. He’d forgotten to mention his new office manager to Matt. But it could wait for now. He wanted to enjoy being the apple of her eye for just a little longer…Matt was known as quite the ladies’ man. And Jim knew Diana, being single, would enjoy his company. He chuckled to himself and whistled something tuneless as he quickened his pace towards the tiny construction trailer. The lights were on inside and he was relishing the company that he would find there, as new as it was. This was going to be a good year for him, in an exciting way he hadn’t known for a long time, or maybe ever… he knew this instinctively. Diana would help make the months away from home pass much more quickly. And besides, she was turning out to be a quick-study—not a whole lot of training to do, and she was extremely pleasant and fun to work with.

He’d have to introduce her to Beth, the hospital administrator’s assistant. Yes, that would be a good move; they would get along great. Beth was married and Diana was single but their quiet personalities and matching work ethics would help ensure the project’s success; they’d work well together. He was still busy congratulating himself on his astute hire as he swung into his dusty office.

Diana had stopped at Starbuck’s on her way to work and picked up lattes for both of them. And this morning she looked stunning in her light tan slacks and sky-blue blouse that reflected the shade of her huge eyes and made them sparkle. Jim couldn’t help himself. Flirtation wasn’t beyond him. In hindsight, it had seemed so innocent in the beginning with Diana. He smiled warmly at her while she lifted her chin, her dark hair falling in curls around her shoulders—she always met his gaze with a soul-searching and relentless affection.

Any messages? And how are you today? You’re certainly bright and early. Jim’s deep, confident voice and playful smile made Diana’s whole being vibrate with excitement. His presence completely filled up the room, sucking all the air out of it. It got so, at times, she thought her heart would burst through her chest. He has me, she would sigh desperately to herself. He’s married, I’m not, and nothing but nothing can happen here. Besides, I really need this job. She hated to leave him at night and even lunch was a love-sick period of longing to be near Jim again, and she’d quickly inhale a poppy seed muffin and cheese stick at Safeway, a block away, and hurry back to the tiny trailer to resume work.

As the weeks went by, though, Diana found that even though her job title was field office manager, she wasn’t privy to all of Jim’s plans. Sometimes she would arrive at work on a