Amazing Grace by Lesley Crewe Read Free Book Online

yours?”
    â€œThis is my reward for all that hiking.”
    â€œGood thinking.”
    We both sit and turn our faces to the lowering of the sun. All around us are dark shadows and a chill that reminds us that winter is just out of sight. Everywhere you look there are shades of dark blue and grey splashed across the landscape.
    â€œI wish I could paint,” I say. “Maybe I’ll take it up.”
    â€œFletcher should build you a studio up here. When you’re not using it, you could rent it out to writers or other artists who want to get away from everything. People need to be alone to think.”
    I smile at her. “That’s a very good idea. You are a clever girl.”
    When we eventually wander back down the hill, I tell myself that the only thing I need to do for now is to make sure Melissa has good homemade food, plenty of exercise, and lots of sleep.
    Imagine getting a Starbucks coffee for her breakfast. And having that damn laptop and phone in her bedroom at night. She’s probably up till all hours staring at those screens. It makes me shudder.
    Three days into my Melissa mission, I call Jon. “She’s doing well. She’s still cranky sometimes, but then, so am I.”
    â€œWhat are you doing with her?”
    â€œWe baked a pie the other day, and I showed her how to make boiled icing. And I’m teaching her to sew. We’re making more outfits for Beulah.”
    â€œThat sounds very Little House on the Prairie, Mother, but how is it going to help her when she gets back to the real world?”
    â€œBelieve it or not, Jonathan, this is the real world too. You should remember that.”
    And then comes the day I take her to my farmhouse. I tell Fletch where I’m going.
    â€œThe old homestead, eh?”
    â€œI’ll just show her around. We’ll be back by suppertime.”
    â€œYou and I both know that there are ghosts in that house. Are you sure you want to wake them up?”
    â€œWhere is this place?”
    â€œIn Marble Mountain.”
    â€œSounds like a Disney ride.” She leans her head against the side window of the truck.
    â€œIt’s a very beautiful spot about forty minutes from here. They used to mine for marble in a quarry on the mountain. Hence the name. The beaches have white sand because of it.”
    We drive down winding roads and pass two old churches. There are driveways that disappear into the woods, the houses too far back to see from the road. You’d think no one lived here, and not many do now; mostly summer residents.
    At the bend of a blind hill, I turn and drive slowly down an overgrown dirt laneway. The tree branches close in and create a tunnel effect. Melissa looks nervous as we continue on.
    â€œWhat is this? It’s like the set of a scary movie.”
    I remember feeling that way the first time I set eyes on this place.
    An old farmhouse, crooked and settled into the earth, comes into view. The white shingles have faded and the paned windows are empty. The front porch runs the length of the house, with ivy and brambles covering a good portion of it. The front door was red at one time, but it’s mostly peeling now. Trees are taking over what was once a garden and meadow.
    I pull the truck right up to the front porch and turn off the engine.
    Melissa gives me a horrified look. “I thought the trailer was bad, but this? It’s the house time forgot.”
    â€œThis is a special house.”
    â€œIt looks cold, damp, and mouldy. Why would you want me and my friends to stay here?”
    â€œIt wasn’t always like this. Come inside.”
    It takes a few seconds for the key to cooperate and open the front door. A loud creak accompanies the motion.
    â€œI’m not sure I like this place,” says a small voice behind me.
    â€œIt’s just old, like me.”
    When I open the parlour door, my heart skips a beat. It always does. The old-fashioned furniture bring back so many