Chapter 7: The Diary

CHAPTER 7

The Diary

Ihad trouble sleeping the night Leo shared everything about his father’s death with me.

I would have thought the delicious food would have put me right to sleep, but I couldn’t turn my mind off. There was something he’d said that didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. It would torture me for days to come.

It didn’t help that I could hear him below, puttering around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from dinner, which I had offered to do myself, but he had vehemently refused. I was also pretty sure he was reorganizing the cabinets to his preferences.

When I finally drifted off into some kind of light sleep, after the regular 2:13 a.m. thump from the attic, I was plagued by scratching and shuffling noises coming from the walls. I was positive it wasn’t from an animal, but if not an animal, I had no idea what could have caused it.

The next morning, I wasn’t even sure if it had really happened, or if it had merely been a waking dream. I did, however, find it odd that my cell phone had moved clear across the room while I slept. I was sure I had set it on the nightstand before bed, and it was on the floor, next to the window, when I awoke. Whether I had moved it, or someone else had, the fact that it wasn’t where I thought I’d left it unnerved me.

Over the weekend, similar occurrences happened both while I was sleeping and during the day, when I had been nowhere near the pink room. Random bits would move around my room, leaving me questioning my sanity.

I was positively spooked.

When I brought it up to Leo over dinner on Sunday night, he was just as perplexed. “You’re sure it wasn’t you?”

“If it was, I have no memory of doing any of it,” I assured him.

He pursed his lips, unsure of what to make of the phenomenon. “Don’t say it,” he warned me.

“What?”

Leo glared.

Ghosts.

Hauntings.

He didn’t like the idea of any of it. Neither did I, but at least it would have explained what was going on. I didn’t like the idea of being mad, myself.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Leo began, “when they start the flooring tomorrow, if you want, you can sleep in my room for a few days.”

“Oh.” I managed. “Thank you.” The offer was unexpected, but solved a problem that had been nagging at me for a while. “Are you sure?”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t—it’s not like I use it overnight.” He gave a mirthless laugh.

“When do you sleep?” I asked. I only understood the broad strokes of insomnia.

“I’ll fall asleep on the couch most nights, at some point. Occasionally, if I’m overly tired, I’ll nap during the day.” He sipped his coffee.

“Have you seen anyone about it?” I might have been overstepping, but Leo had been opening up so much more, I thought it was worth a chance.

“Sure—I’ve got pills. I just hate taking them; they make me feel like a zombie the next day, and sometimes, if they don’t work, it puts me in this awful headspace while my brain fights the drugs to stay awake. I’ll feel agitated—anxious for hours; hyperaware of my surroundings.” Leo shook his head, as if he was trying to shake the memories away. “I didn’t take them for long,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry.”

Leo looked up at me, over his coffee, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay—it hasn’t been as bad recently…and the new couch is so much more comfortable than the old one.”

I returned his smile.

That evening, Leo showed me into his room for the first time.

He had previously explained that it used to be his father’s study. He had converted it into a bedroom, so he could be close to the solarium at night, if he was needed. His explanation made the dark paneling along the walls make sense. I could easily see the large wood desk from the library in the middle of the room, with George West seated behind it, angrily telling off investors.

The entire right-hand wall was lined with bookshelves. Opposite, on the left side, Leo’s bed was centered on the wall. Leo explained that the door on the right of his bed led to the bathroom, which was also accessible through the solarium.

“I won’t go in there,” I said immediately. I had learned my lesson.

“I know,” he replied confidently.

His bed was as dark and moody as the rest of the room, with charcoal linen sheets and a black duvet of the same material. But it looked so much cozier than the bed in the pink room. I had to resist the urge to dive in and make myself comfortable.

Along the wall between the main door and the bookshelves was a clothing rack, where a few suit coats hung. A thick chest of drawers stood next to it, where I assumed Leo kept the rest of his clothes, since the study didn’t have a proper closet.

Heavy dark-blue velvet curtains lined the entirety of the wall facing out to the backyard. I wondered when they had last been opened. Maybe never.

I knew from having seen it from the backyard that they concealed a window seat that matched the one in the library.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything; I’ll be quiet—I know how sound can travel in this old house,” he joked awkwardly before taking his leave, closing the door gently behind him.

Sitting down on Leo’s bed, I realized it was as comfortable as I had imagined. I took time to let my eyes wander around the room. I was still touched by the trust he had placed in me, to allow me into his personal space…his sanctuary. I resolved not to touch a single thing, so as not to violate that trust.

Our bond had definitely grown in the weeks I’d been staying at the house, but there were still moments it felt tenuous. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my friendship with Leo. Project aside, I felt we had grown to rely on each other in small ways, and I would have been devastated to lose that.

Leo’s bedroom was tastefully appointed. I did want to brighten it up a bit, but it suited his state of mind, and it washis—perhaps the only part of that house that he could claim as solely his own. While it was minimalistic, the masculine elements felt right for the space…they felt right for him.

Being surrounded by his musky scent, in his bed, albeit alone, I had to finally admit defeat. I had feelings for Leo beyond a friendship. I’d been pulled to him since the beginning, and I thought he must have been drawn to me in some kind of way as well, or he never would have taken a chance on me like he had.

When I thought of Leo, he made me feel warm. I liked being around him. I loved the way we made each other laugh. I smiled as I realized I could bring out a lightness in him that I hadn’t seen anyone else capable of. It made me feel special.

The warmth spread.

I was in trouble. He was still my boss.

And I wasn’t sure what to do about any of it.

Waking up in Leo’s room the first morning almost felt like a dream. His bed was beyond cozy, and even though he wasn’t in the room with me, it felt like he was all around me, like he had held me in his arms all night. I hadn’t slept so well in ages. I didn’t want to get up.

But alas, duty called, and I knew a fresh cup of coffee and Leo himself awaited me in the kitchen.

“I can’t find her anywhere,” Leo said dejectedly as he slid my steaming mug across the counter.

I watched him as he poured more coffee into his own mug, then took a seat next to me at the counter. His thigh touched mine, sending a zing of electricity up my spine. I was surprised when he made no attempt to sever the connection.

“Who?” I was still groggy from finally receiving the deep sleep I had so desperately needed.

“Julie—the nurse,” Leo clarified. “Did you sleep okay?” His brow furrowed as he got a good look at me.

“Yeah. Too well, actually.” I chuckled, trying to ignore the heat of his thigh against mine.

Leo raised a brow, confused by my humor.

“Your mattress was so much more comfortable than the one in the pink room,” I told him. “And I think—” I paused, unsure if I wanted to say what came next, but I did anyway. “I think I felt a lot safer knowing you were right outside,” I admitted.

Leo paused, taking in what I’d said. “I didn’t realize you felt unsafe upstairs.” He seemed upset.

“Not unsafe exactly—just on edge, I guess.” I didn’t quite know how to put to words the uncomfortable feeling that enveloped me, in the dark, alone, in the pink room, with all the odd noises and goings on—it had become oppressive.

“I’m sorry.” Leo’s brow furrowed, perhaps feeling responsible.

He wasn’t.

“Don’t worry about it.” I waved him off. “What were you saying about Julie?”

“Margot was useless—she’s terrible with names and faces. But what’s worse is that I can’t find a single trace of her online—and I’m good at tracking this kind of stuff. It’s like she never existed.”

“How did you find her? Through a referral? Or an agency?” I asked, unsure of how someone finds an at-home hospice nurse.

“I’ll have to call Dad’s doctor and see if they know—she was hired before I came back. Otherwise I know a PI that’s helped me before,” Leo threw out casually.

“You just happen to know a private investigator?” I narrowly avoided choking on my coffee.

“Back when I was consulting—sometimes we’d have to research competitors, fraudulent business claims, or track down leaks on IP.”

“IP?” I’d heard the term before, but couldn’t remember what it stood for.

“Intellectual property—usually proprietary information that made the startup special or unique in the marketplace. Often, startups are taken advantage of, if the people running things aren’t business savvy enough—trusting the wrong people.” He finished his coffee and got up to rinse the mug. “They usually can’t afford physical or cyber security measures either.”

“Huh.” I looked down at my half full mug, again trying to think about anything other than Leo’s thighs.

“Can you handle the flooring guys solo so I can try to track down our missing nurse?” Leo asked.

“Sure. Danny will be here any minute, and he’ll keep everyone in check.” I laughed, thinking of Danny’s already red face getting redder if the new contractors stepped out of line.

“I’m going to change quick,” Leo told me. I was perplexed for a moment, before I realized he was telling me because we were effectively sharing the same room now.

I felt bad, thinking that because I had invaded his space, he hadn’t been able to wear fresh clothes. I had to remind myself that he had invited me to stay in his room, and he wouldn’t have done so if he wasn’t okay with it.

A few minutes later, Leo was at the door putting his coat on.

“Be safe.” I leaned against the railing of the main staircase, feeling a strange desire to remind him to be cautious—something about the situation just felt off.

“I’ll keep you posted.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. The gesture, having been initiated by him, flared the warmth brewing inside of me.

“Bye,” I sighed as he released me, the loss of his warmth immediate. Maybe my feelings weren’t so one-sided?

Leo almost ran into Danny on his way out.

“Sorry, sir.” Danny bristled.

“Entirely my fault.” Leo chuckled, giving Danny half a wave before heading for his car.

“You ready for some new floors?” Danny’s smile brightened the room and my mood.

The flooring contractors arrived shortly after Danny and got to work right away stripping the disgusting and decrepit shag carpeting from the second floor. Painstakingly removing every single staple and finishing nail that had kept the carpet in place for decades took us the entire rest of the day.

While they were busy upstairs, I decided to start the incredibly laborious task of reorganizing and cataloging the library. Leo and I had been talking about it for weeks and putting it off for just as long, knowing how manual and intensive it would be.

But at least in that time we had come up with a game plan, and Leo had decided how he wanted everything arranged. So what was left was to remove all the books from their shelves, organize, alphabetize, itemize, and return them to their rightful places, in some sort of order that made sense to Leo, which was all that mattered to me.

It was almost dark out when the last of the crew left and Leo returned home, takeout in hand.

“Already sick of cooking?” I joked, secretly appreciative I wouldn’t have to wait a moment longer to eat, as I’d forgotten about lunch, having been buried beneath stacks of ancient encyclopedias and long-outdated textbooks on every kind of subject matter under the sun.

“Never.” Leo shook his head, smiling.

“Any luck?” I hedged.

“Doctor’s office gave me the name of an agency, but they wouldn’t release any personal information.” Leo began unpacking the bag, laying out the food and utensils neatly across the counter. “I reached out to my friend; he’s going to help me look into it and agreed it’s weird she’s not online anywhere.”

“I’m glad you have help,” I sympathized.

“What did you get up to today?” Leo changed the subject.

“Flooring guys are almost done pulling tacks out of the second floor”—I paused, unsure of how he would react to the next part— “and I started organizing the library.”

Leo raised a brow. “Did you?”

“I hope you don’t mind—it felt weird lording over a bunch of grown men picking at tacks and nails one at a time upstairs,” I joked.

“How far did you get?”

“Not far.” I laughed. “But I’ve been entering everything into a spreadsheet as I go, so you have a full catalog.”

Leo nodded in approval, taking a bite of his food.

The rest of the week went by much the same. Leo went out chasing down leads and working with his “PI friend,” who didn’t seem to have a name, while I buried myself in books, and the men slowly refinished the flooring upstairs. By Thursday, the seal had been put over the newly sanded and stained hardwoods and was left to cure overnight. Danny was right, his friend did good work. They left with a promise to be back in a couple weeks, after Thanksgiving, to start working on the main floor.

“You sure you want to move back upstairs?” Leo asked suspiciously over coffee on Friday morning.

I hesitated, causing his eyes to narrow. I knew whatever excuse I gave, he’d never accept it now. So I merely shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” I lied.

The truth was that for as much as I wanted to stay in his room, I was also aware I wanted it too much. What was worse was that I wanted him in there with me. I was fighting an internal battle, and being in that room made it so much more difficult to ignore my feelings and pretend that I felt nothing when I was around him.

How do you ignore your heart skipping a beat every time someone enters a room, or smiles at you, or lets their gaze linger a moment too long, leaving you wondering if you’ve imagined their interest or willed it into being?

Of course I didn’t want to banish myself back up to the haunted pink room, as far from Leo as I could get, but if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure what would happen.

“Won’t the fumes bother you?” Leo tried.

I shook my head. “They aired everything out yesterday; it’s safe.”

Leo snorted a laugh at the word “safe,” implying that the term was relative. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll order new mattresses for the rooms upstairs—the same one I have down here,” he offered.

I shrugged again. “If you want.”

Leo’s brow furrowed, confused by my indifference.

“That would be nice,” I corrected myself.

Leo relaxed, having been given permission to help. “Do you plan on redecorating the rooms now that the floors are finished?” he asked. We’d been gathering items slowly as we visited antique stores in the area, scoured online for special vintage pieces, and kept tabs on what would go where inside the house.

I nodded emphatically. “But I need to finish the library first.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I’d have a hard time focusing on the rooms if I left it in chaos.”

“I’ll help if I can,” Leo told me, “but Val and Carl will both be here today—I was hoping to talk to them—see if they have any insight about Dad.”

“Good—maybe they know something about Julie too. Don’t worry about the library; I’ve got it under control.”

After coffee, we went our separate ways, and once again, I lost time as I sorted through the never-ending stacks of books waiting for me in the organized chaos of the library.

It wasn’t long after I started sorting through the books that I came upon a small leather-bound journal that had been slipped between the pages of an old encyclopedia from the seventies.

Skimming the first few pages of old paper, imprints still visible from the blue ballpoint pen, it became apparent that the journal had once belonged to Christine West, Leo’s mother.

I closed the journal, not feeling right about reading it without him.

Journal in hand, I went out to the kitchen, looking for Leo, calling out for him, but he wasn’t on the main floor.

“He left about twenty minutes ago.” Val poked her head out from the storage room behind the kitchen. “Did you need help with something?”

I’d had minimal interaction with Val since starting the project and, curiously, even less after I’d moved in. I wasn’t sure if she was just intent on keeping to herself, or if she was actively avoiding me. But the few times we had spoken, she’d seemed nice enough; she just didn’t like to waste time talking, preferring to keep herself busy with work.

I looked down at the journal, then back up at Val. “Did he say when he’d be back?” I asked.

Val shook her head. A single strand of silver hair escaped from her tight braid, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear.

“Thanks,” I replied, then made my way back into the library. I thought about texting Leo, but he was probably driving, and if he wasn’t, he’d left to meet someone, still on the hunt for Nurse Julie.

Feeling guilty but hoping Leo wouldn’t be upset, I made the decision to read through the journal. Margot had always been so brief about what had happened to Christine, and nobody else would even say her name—Leo himself became anxious at the mention of his mother. And selfishly, I think part of me knew there was a chance that once I turned the journal over to Leo, I’d never get the opportunity to look through it again.

I felt like a bad person—like a bad friend—but I read the journal anyway.

I was simply too curious.

And it was a good thing, in this case.

The journal seemed to have been written right around the time of Christine’s death. My eyes flew through the pages, desperate to find some insight into what had happened to the woman.

The earlier entries started innocently enough. She was happy with George but felt he spent too much time at work, and she felt his absence keenly. She thought he was missing Leo’s childhood, and it broke her heart.

Most entries mentioned Leo, a toddler at the time, in some capacity. Christine was absolutely in love with her baby. The more I read, the more I felt confused about why she had taken her own life. The way she spoke about Leo and her desire to watch him grow up didn’t read as someone who was suicidal, or depressed—it was the opposite.

I did have to consider that people see their own lives differently than others, and she might not have been telling the whole truth, even in her personal diary. Maybe it had been an exercise from a therapist, or she’d known George was reading it, so she’d written what they’d wanted to hear? But if that wasn’t the case, if this record was simply for Christine and Christine alone, then surely she wouldn’t have ended her life unless something catastrophic had happened.

I didn’t see any underlining or subtextual clues that would lead me to believe that this woman would die at her own hand within months of writing such sweet words about how quickly Leo was growing up and how she couldn’t wait to see the man he would become. She’d had no idea that wouldn’t happen.

But about halfway through the journal, there was a tonal shift. Christine had discovered something, and whatever it was, she wasn’t comfortable spelling it out precisely on the pages…maybe she was worried someone was reading what she wrote.

Throughout the diary, she referred to someone, who seemed to be a close friend, using an odd symbol that looked like four narrow, closely spaced capital “X’s” next to each other: XXXX. Whoever they were, they were a voice of reason, a shoulder to cry on, and very much a confidante.

The first entry I flagged started with ‘XXXX can’t be trusted. If George found out what they did, he’d kill them, and Leo would lose his father.’

A few days later, Christine wrote, ‘Can’t stop thinking about XXXX. Poor Thomas and Mary. They didn’t deserve what happened to them. I’m trying to see if George knows anyone at the police station. If I can turn in XXXX before George finds out and tries to handle it himself, maybe I can make this right.’

But then things took a turn, and the last entry read, ‘I think XXXX knows something is wrong. They always know when I’m not telling the truth. They can tell something is bothering me. I’m scared for Leo. I’ve started hiding this diary around the house. If XXXX found it, I’m done for.’

My heart beat loudly in my chest as I closed the journal. Christine’s fear was so palpable. I didn’t think she’d killed herself. I was almost positive someone had pushed her off the seaside cliff.

Whoever XXXX was, it sounded like they not only had played a role in Christine’s murder, but that they had done something to the Thomas and Mary she mentioned. I didn’t know who they were, but clearly they were people who had meant a great deal to George, enough that Christine thought he would risk his own freedom for revenge.

I called Leo, but it went straight to voicemail.

His phone was off.

Where was he?

It was getting dark out, and he’d been gone for hours.

Holding the journal tightly, I ventured out of the library, back into the living room. “Val?” I called, but nobody responded. It would have been unlike her to stay on that late anyway. But if Val was gone, that meant I was alone in the house.

Feeling suddenly exposed, as if the house knew I was aware of some long-forgotten secrets that nobody was meant to discover, I double-checked that the front door was locked before sprinting up to the pink room and locking myself inside.

I texted Leo, telling him I was worried about him and that I needed to talk to him. I hoped that when he turned his phone on again, he’d see the text and get ahold of me.

Sitting in the room by myself, every noise, every shadow, every movement out of the corner of my eye unnerved me. Even with the new sheets, rearranged floor plan, and different smell, thanks to the newly sealed flooring, the room still felt off. But I didn’t know where else to go.

Well, there was one other place, but if Leo found me in his room uninvited, even if I felt safer there…I didn’t want another reaction like what had happened when he’d discovered me in the solarium. It wasn’t worth the potential respite.

I turned off the lights, thinking that maybe if I couldn’t see anything, it would calm my nerves. And perhaps it worked a little too well. Coming down from the adrenaline, I fell fast asleep, clutching the journal to my chest.