Jordan

I jolted awake at the knock on the door.

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that it took my breath away. I still hadn't recovered from the shock of last night, of that radio suddenly switching on at full blast. I'd slept fitfully for the rest of the night, and as I looked around the room, I realized that I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was it was daytime, as the sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains was blindingly bright.

The knocking continued, more insistent this time.

I swung my legs off the couch and straightened myself up; I had no idea who would be coming to see me. The closest neighbor was nearly a half mile down the road. I cautiously made my way to the front door, checking myself out in the hall mirror so I could at least run my fingers through my disheveled hair. At least I had pants on, even if they were pajama pants. I gave my gray T-shirt a sniff - well, I didn't smell the best, but it would have to do. Whoever was knocking at my door wasn't going away.

I undid the locks and swung the door open halfway - there on the stoop stood an old woman, dressed in church clothes, with her gray hair done up in waves around her head. She glanced at my grungy clothes before meeting my eye and smiling.

"Good morning," she said.

"Uh, good morning," I replied, clearing my throat as I squinted against the sunlight, "can I help you?"

"I'm your neighbor," she announced, pointing vaguely towards the road that led into town, "Velma West. I live at the white house down the road. And you are?"

"Uh, Jordan. Jordan Reid."

We stared at each other for a moment before I realized I was probably being rude.

"Would you like to come in?" I offered, cringing a little as she accepted. The house wasn't exactly company-ready.

She stepped inside and sighed happily as she looked around the entryway, as though recalling fond memories.

"I was wondering who would take over the old Holloway house," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh," she laughed, "that's just what I call the place. The Holloways were the ones who built this house. But I shouldn't expect you to know that; that was back in the fifties; even I'm hardly old enough to remember them."

"Yeah, that was a little before my time," I joked, as I tried to smooth down my bedhead. She continued to wander the entryway, running her hands along the wood-paneled walls.

"Hey, I was about to make some coffee," I said, hoping I could stop her from wandering too far into the depths of the house, where the worst of the mess was waiting, "would you like some?"

"I'd love some," she replied, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

A few minutes later we were at the kitchen table, and I carefully handed Velma her mug of coffee before I sat down. She took a long sip, her eyes travelling around the kitchen as she did so.

"So," she said, setting her mug down, "do you know anything about the history of this house?"

There was something accusatory in her tone; the implication that I should know, that it was disrespectful of me to even be here if I didn't.

"No," I admitted sheepishly, "I'm afraid I don't know much about it."

"And are you planning to remodel it, then?" She asked, and this time the judgmental tone was much less subtle. I realized then what she must have thought of me, what this whole situation looked like. I was a young, single guy living alone here; she probably assumed I was one of those upstart finance guys, the ones who bought up houses and gutted them of all their character before updating them with all the modern amenities and selling them at a profit. I put my hands out defensively as I began to explain.

"No, nothing like that," I said, "I actually don't know what I'm going to do quite yet. I just recently inherited it when my aunt passed away."

Velma's face softened a bit as she said,

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Did she not have any children?"

"She had two," I replied, "but her son is in the army and her daughter's travelling Europe with her husband. They already inherited my aunt's other house, so they decided it would be best for this place to go to me. I'm planning on fixing it up, but haven't gotten around to doing much yet."

"I see," she said, "well, I hope you'll keep the original designs. It's a beautiful house."

"It is," I replied, "and don't worry, I don't plan on changing anything; I just want to fix what I can. It's been a long time since anyone's lived here."

"Too long," the old woman said wistfully. We finished our coffee, while I pointed out details of the small repairs I was planning to make in the kitchen.

After we finished our coffee, I walked her to the door. I squinted in the bright light of the morning sun, but realized there wasn't a car parked in the driveway.

"Did you walk all this way?" I asked. The white house 'down the road' wasn't exactly close by. Velma waved me off.

"It's not that far," she said, "besides, I need the exercise. You stop moving at my age, you might stop moving for good."

"Would you like me to drive you home?"

"I already told you, it's not that far. I'm more able-bodied than I look. But thank you."

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit. I was starting to like this spunky old woman.

"Oh, Velma?" I said, as she began walking away.

"Yes?"

"You were talking about the history of the house; what do you know about it?"

"Oh, that's a long story," she said with a laugh.

"Well, maybe you can tell me about it later. Come by for coffee again?"

She thought about it for a moment, her gaze travelling over the house, as though she were recalling something. Finally, she nodded.

"I'd like that," she said.

We said our goodbyes and I shut the door. I looked around the dimly-lit house, wondering what secrets were held in its walls. Now that she had put the idea in my mind, I realized how much I wanted to know its story. I headed upstairs to take a shower and put on some real clothes. As I reached the upper landing, I froze.

I mean that almost literally.

I felt as though the blood had frozen in my veins, as though I had suddenly stepped outside on a winter's day. My breath caught in my throat and when I finally exhaled again, it appeared in front of me in a crystallized cloud.

I shivered hard, and the feeling passed.

I rubbed the warmth back into my arms, and began to wonder -

Did I really want to learn the story of this house?