Lucy's Sketches

Chapter 1

Before we start, I would like to thank Maggie O'Highley for all her help with the editing. I am the Baker, but she puts the icing on top.❤

Juniper Hill Estate

Isabelle

Standing on the cracked and pitted driveway, I look up at the massive creepy house, and the house is glaring back at me with its two menacing stained glass window eyes flanking the front door. It is telling me to get back in the car with my daughter, Lucy, and get the hell out of here.

Do not enter.
Go home!

But I cannot do that.

I have to finish what Sam started. For some reason, only he understood, my husband invested a small fortune in this place. Where I could only see an old, dilapidated house, Sam could see a beautiful opportunity.

He understood houses; I understand psychology... most of the time. However, I sometimes didn't understand Sam, and I made a promise to my family and myself never to be that psychologist, the one who psychoanalyzes her husband and children instead of being the supporting and comforting mother and wife they need.

It's a hard balancing act but an important one.

I glance at Lucy, silently standing by my side, her grey eyes taking in the details, her expression, as has become her habit, not giving anything away. " So, what do you think, Luce?" I prompt, hoping for a response but not expecting a meaningful one, letting me into her closed-off heart.

As I expected, my ten-year-old daughter shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know," she mutters with little interest on her sweet little face. "It's okay, I guess. Kinda creepy," she scowls; she does that a lot lately. "Do we have to live here?"

I know I should be pleased since this is the most elaborate answer I've gotten from her in a long time, but I'm not pleased. My daughter is obviously as apprehensive about this adventure as I am. I would love nothing more than to bring her comfort and warmth and shower her life with new joy, but I have none of that to give. My heart is a pit of despair. All I can do is not let her drown in my darkness.

"Well, not if you don't want to," I offer her a branch to cling to. Hell, I don't want to stay here, but it is the better option, the most affordable, the least stressful. "There are rentals available in town. I checked before-"

"It's fine, Mom."

My heart lurches because I know that despite her young age, Lucy is well aware of our dire situation, and unlike many other kids of her age, she is trying hard to be mature about it. This tiny little girl with her long, light-brown braids and impossibly large eyes, clad in green and pink tartan short dungarees and Spongebob sneakers, is my rock. She picks up her backpack and starts to walk towards the door before I can say anything else.

"This is how horror movies..." I hear her mumble as she walks out of earshot.

"Start," I finish the thought. Yeah, great! It looks like the kind of house that's probably haunted too. I watch Lucy take a seat on the steps leading up to the front porch and pull her sketchpad from her backpack. She is soon deeply engrossed in what has become her favourite activity; drawing and frowning with her sketchpad on her lap, the tip of her tongue protruding from her pink lips as she concentrates. Watching her, my heart lurches again, this time with overwhelming love.

It's become normal to see my once happy child always frowning and scowling, quickly wiping away tears whenever she catches me looking at her. I've tried to comfort her, assuring her that it's normal and okay to feel and to react. I would do nearly anything to see my baby's sunshine smile again, but I won't push. It's only been three months.