Magnolia Run

By Kimberly Filkins

There's something wrong at Magnolia Run. Twelve-year-old Claire Moran can feel it as soon as she arrives at her new home: a crumbling farmhouse in rural South Carolina. Claire has just lost her mother and has been shipped off to live with her only relative, Louise, an aunt she has never met. As Claire attempts to settle into a new life and new school, all she wants is to be normal and to avoid thinking about her mother. But soon frightening events start happening in the house. The door at the end of the hall bleeds, Claire hears whispers when she's alone, and she's losing large amounts of time. Then she learns that nearly everyone in town is talking about her aunt and their "haunted house." It seems the whole community knows more about her family than Claire does. Why had her mother moved so far away? Why had she never mentioned her sister? Who are these relatives Claire has never known? And what is really going on at Magnolia Run? As Claire digs into her family history, decades-old secrets begin to emerge. It's clear Magnolia Run is in danger, and Claire must untangle the mystery and save her aunt and their home before it's too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644581001

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Magnolia Run

Kimberly Filkins

Copyright © 2019 by Kimberly Filkins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

For my mom, who taught me to read

and encouraged me to write.

Chapter 1

Claire could tell she was moving, but she didn’t know why. She was at home in her small room, and Mama was making breakfast. Mama would call her in a few minutes. She could smell the bacon and eggs.

She was in class. They were having independent reading time, and she was enjoying her book, but she kept getting distracted by the boy next to her who was tapping on his desk. She hated the tapping, but she never asked him to stop. She didn’t notice the office assistant come in until she was leaning down whispering into Ms. Daniel’s ear. Claire could hear something clinking, like the boy was now playing with silverware. She smelled oranges.

Claire Moran? The assistant had straightened up and was looking at her. Could you come with me please?

Claire stared at the woman. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Where was that coming from? The woman held out her hand. Claire?

Claire? Someone was shaking her shoulder. Claire, do you want anything to eat?

She was awake now. It wasn’t Mama making breakfast. It was the food cart coming down the aisle. It had a bad wheel. Squeak, squeak, squeak. It was Ms. Williams sitting next to her, not that boy who always tapped.

She remembered boarding the train with Ms. Williams. She remembered they were going to her aunt’s house. She remembered watching the sun go down, as the landscape whipped past. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She looked at the cart. Each plate had two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit sitting in its own little cup on the side. Her stomach rumbled, but she shook her head anyway. Ms. Williams smiled sadly, as she took a plate for herself.

That’s alright. Maybe you’ll be hungry later.

Claire stared out the window and wondered if her aunt looked anything like Mama.

The last two weeks had been somewhat of a blur to Claire. She remembered going with the office assistant and the little Styrofoam cup of water they had given her. She remembered being told Mama had been killed in a car accident, but she couldn’t remember who had told her. She remembered someone taking her to her house and putting clothes in a suitcase. The house had been quiet and empty. She remembered the girls’ home. She remembered some faces but none of the names. Except the woman who ran it. Mrs. Albert. She was round and loud and made sure Claire knew she didn’t have any patience for sulking in her establishment. Claire had just glared at her. It wasn’t worth explaining that mourning your dead mother didn’t count as sulking. Mrs. Albert wouldn’t have cared anyway.

She remembered meetings with Ms. Williams, who asked a lot of questions. Claire didn’t have a lot of answers. She remembered them asking about her father. Good luck there. Mama had shown her her birth certificate once, and where the father’s name should have been it just said unknown. It had been just her and Mama for twelve years. She remembered Ms. Williams saying she had an aunt somewhere and they were trying to find her. Mostly, she remembered the way the kids at school looked at her, blank and a little sad. Claire didn’t know what to say to them, so she didn’t say anything at all.

Mama was beautiful. At least Claire thought so, but Mama always described herself as plain.

My name should have been Jane, Mama would say with a laugh.

Claire would watch her mother comb her long dark hair in the mirror. It was thin, almost wispy, very different than Claire’s thick, often frizzy, honey blond locks.

Mama, where’d you get your hair? Claire asked when she was a little girl sitting on the bed, watching Mama braid her hair in front of the big framed mirror that always hung on the wall.

From my mother, your grandmother. Hers was just like this.

Where’d I get mine?

From your father I guess.

Where’d I get my eyes?

Mama turned toward her, letting her hands drop away from her hair and with a smile spreading across her face. Baby, those are all mine.

They both had light gray eyes, the color of a cloudy day. Mama was thin and petite, and Claire was turning out the same way. People told both of them they looked young for their ages. Claire hated it when people thought she was still in elementary school.

You’ll appreciate it someday, Mama would say.

Claire would always agree, but she really doubted it.

It was raining when they got off the train. The air was hot and muggy. It was mid-September, and it still felt like summer. Ms. Williams opened an umbrella and put her arm around Claire. She stiffened, but she let Ms. Williams pull her close so she would be protected from the rain. The terminal was mostly quiet. There were only a few passengers disembarking and the people meeting them. Her rolling suitcase bumped over the joints in the sidewalk. Thump . . . thump . . . thump.

The sign over the car rental desk proclaimed, It’s A Great Day in South Carolina! That’s right, Claire thought. They did say her aunt lived in South Carolina.

So, where are we headed today? the girl at the desk asked, assuming they were mother and daughter.

Ms. Williams gave the girl a small smile. Upstate. Wood Falls. Then she started rummaging in her purse.

Are we having a girls’ trip? the girl chirped.

Ms. Williams looked up and said pointedly, No. It’s business.

The girl’s smile faded a little as she took the hint. She glanced at Claire and then started typing on the computer behind the counter.

That’s right, Claire thought. I’m business. Got it?

Claire looked out at the rain. Mama loved sunshine but she liked the rain too. She said it made things grow. To Claire, it seemed like tears, like the sky was crying. Don’t you want the flowers and the trees to grow and be strong and healthy? Mama would ask.

Not today, Claire thought.

Claire, let’s go. Ms. Williams put her hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the door. Again, Ms. Williams put up the umbrella, and they huddled under it as they hurried to the car. It was a red Camry, much nicer than the car Mama had. The kids at school rode in cars like this. Their car was green, faded by the sun. There was a dent in the driver’s door and rust along the bottom. Claire wondered vaguely what they would do with Mama’s car.

They drove a long way and had to switch from one interstate to another. Claire started to doze again. She was thinking about the flowers. If rain helped everything grow, why did it beat the flowers down? They always looked so sad after the rain, hanging over like they were in mourning.

Back in the spring, Mama had picked out some pretty flowers in front of the grocery store. Claire couldn’t remember what they were called, but they were a bright pink. After only two weeks in the sun, they dried up. Claire had been upset, but Mama hadn’t been bothered. She said they had served their purpose. The flowers had brightened up the porch for a couple weeks. Claire hadn’t thought that was long enough.

Ah, we’re getting close.

Claire looked up and saw Wood Falls 10 miles on the green sign on the side of the road. She wondered if her aunt ever planted flowers.

The GPS led them to the center of town, but it couldn’t find Magnolia Avenue, her aunt’s address. Ms. Williams drove up and down Main Street trying to get the GPS to reroute. She was getting frustrated. Finally, she parked at a gas station.

Come inside with me, Claire. I need to ask someone where your aunt’s house is. This thing doesn’t know what it’s talking about. She gestured angrily toward the GPS and then pulled her seatbelt off and threw open the door. Claire followed and had to jog to catch up.

The man behind the counter smiled and said, What can I do for you this evening, ladies?

Ms. Williams had regained some of her composure. She smiled back. We’re looking for Magnolia Avenue. Can you tell me how to get there?

Go outta here to the left and go all the way through town. Once you’re outta town, you’ll see it on the right. One of those subdivisions with lots of new houses and a big sign.

Ms. Williams let out a sigh of relief. Thank you so much. I thought we’d be going around in circles all night. She started to steer Claire toward the door.

The man was looking hard at Claire. No problem. Hey, you aren’t lookin’ for Louise Moran, are you?

Ms. Williams turned back. Yes, we are, she replied hesitantly.

Well then you gotta keep going to the end of the road. It’s kinda hard to see but there’s a house way back in there.

Thank you, sir. They were halfway out the door, but Claire heard the man mutter, Be careful.

They hurried back to the car. Claire put her seatbelt on, but Ms. Williams was staring out the windshield. I’m sorry, Claire, she said.

It’s okay. Claire was tired, and she knew Ms. Williams must be as well. It had been a long couple of days.

Ms. Williams smiled. Thank you, Claire. Okay, looks like we’re almost there.

The town was old and quaint. There were shops on each side selling antiques and secondhand clothes. There were a couple of restaurants and a large clock in the center of town. A sign pointed to the public library down a side street and railroad tracks ran alongside them just beyond the shop rows. Out her window, Claire could see mountains rising over the houses. Even in the dim light, they were beautiful.

Not far out of town, they found a cluster of newly built homes with cozy porches and dormer windows. They reminded Claire of the ones she visited for birthday parties back home and the ones they were building in the new subdivisions all around her town. Her old town. They were like the ones Mama looked at and always talked about owning. Claire thought they all looked the same. The main street was Magnolia Avenue, and a big stone-covered sign at the entrance said, The Village at Magnolia. Underneath it read, No Outlet.

The road ran down the center with cul-de-sacs on the right and left. You couldn’t tell from the main road, but not far down, the houses ended and so did the pavement. Soon they were driving on a muddy path that seemed to get narrower as they went. It was dusk now, and the trees were denser. Ms. Williams was leaning forward over the wheel, and Claire could hear the mud splashing up on the side of the car as they ran through the puddles. Finally, they saw a light and a house come into view.

It was a large, once majestic farmhouse. There were two stories and a couple of dormers at the top. There was a spacious wraparound porch, and a dark chimney climbed up the side. As they pulled up in front, even in the fading light, Claire could see it was in desperate need of maintenance. The paint was faded and peeling, the shutters hung at funny angles, and the screen door was ripped in several places. The windows upstairs were dark and vacant, staring out like eyes. It was creepy, back in the woods all on its own. Claire felt her skin prickle. There was something oddly familiar about the house, something she couldn’t put her finger on. She suddenly had a feeling of déjà vu.

A woman came to the screen door and peered out, and just as quickly as it had come the feeling was gone. It was replaced with nervousness. Claire had never particularly liked meeting new people, and this situation was especially awkward. Meeting