Restless souls, p.1
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       Restless Souls, p.1
 

          
Restless Souls
Restless Souls

  By

  Bliss Addison

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2007 Bliss Addison

  First Electronic Publication 2007

  Second Electronic Publication 2011

  *Previously Published by SynergEbooks*

  This book is a work of fiction based entirely on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. Real places mentioned in the book are depicted fictionally and are not intended to portray actual times or places. All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  * * * *

  Other Books by Bliss Addison:

  A Battle of Wills (Shannon Murphy – Book I)

  With Malicious Intent (Shannon Murphy – Book II)

  Wolfe, She Cried

  Murder at the Villa Maria-Sedona Retirement Home

  A Waning Moon

  One Millhaven Lane

  Deadly Serum

  Prophesy

  An Equal Measure

  Sleight of Hand

  Watching Over Her

  A Silver Lining (The Monahans – Book I)

  A Little Rain Must Fall (The Monahans – Book II)

  A Mistaken Belief (The Monahans – Book III)

  Summary:

  Susan Turner wants for her children what her parents gave her - a loving home, a happy childhood, stability and security. Now, thanks to her lustful husband, she can only give them part of what she'd hoped for her son and daughter.

  Following a brief period of mourning the death of her marriage, Susan picks herself up and moves on with her life. Her first thing to do is to sell the marital home and purchase something far, far away from the street where her husband has taken up housekeeping with her voluptuous neighbor.

  Susan decides on a house, a fixer-upper the eighty-year-old man next door warns is haunted.

  The days following their relocation give Susan an insight into her marriage and her soon-to-be-ex-husband she'd never before realized. Too late also, she learns the man next door had told the truth and the house, like her soon-to-be ex-husband, has something to hide.

  Contents:

  Chapter 1 – Starting Over

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

 

  Chapter 1

 

  I clutched my handbag like a life preserver and walked from the house to my car, refusing to give any attention to the realtor's sign on the front lawn. At the driver's door, I couldn't resist taking a gander up the street at her house. I didn't know what I expected to see – my husband's truck in the driveway, perhaps, even though I knew at this hour of the morning he would be sitting in his office behind his desk at the Sheffield Police Department.

  It saddened me to sell the house, but not to leave the street.

  I arrived at my lawyer's office ten minutes before the appointed time. All business, Douglas Roderick opened my file and extracted the documents that would dissolve my marriage.

  “As you requested, the petition states the grounds for divorce is irreconcilable differences. Have you changed your mind about that?”

  "I haven't." He thought I took the high road. I wouldn't explain I saved face by not petitioning on the grounds of adultery. From my point of view, admitting I couldn't keep my husband happy in bed was distressing enough without seeing it spelled out.

  The devil was always in the details.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  "None." If I had any, I wouldn't ask. I needed this matter over and done with as quickly as possible.

  He slid a pen and the papers across the desk to me, then pointed to the signature line. "Sign here."

  I took the pen in my hand and wasted no time signing my name—Susan V. Turner. For sixteen years, I was the wife of Jonathan Thomas Turner and Suzie the happy homemaker. Soon, I would be the single mother of sixteen year old Katie Scott Turner and seven year old Benjamin John Turner and one day, I'd be happy again.

  He shoved more papers at me. “These are the documents for the sale of your house on Woodland Drive.”

  I listened as he explained everything – smiling when he smiled, nodding when he nodded – then I signed my name again where he indicated.

  “All things considered, Mrs. Turner, you came out the winner on this one. Not every wife does. Your husband was very generous giving you the marital home and paying your legal fees.”

  It was the least he could do, I thought, for the embarrassment and pain he'd inflicted on his children and me by taking up that ...that woman. I’d say he got away easy. Too easy. Besides, my inheritance allowed us to build the house, so rightly the property should revert to me.

  I forced a smile. “Yes, he was.”

  “The money you have left will tide you over nicely for the next several years.”

  “Yes, it will.”

  He pushed more papers at me. “These are the documents for the purchase of your new house on King George Highway.”

  My new house was an old house, built sometime in the early nineteen hundreds. It needed a lot of work, but nothing a fresh coat of paint, refinishing the hardwood floors, retiling the bathroom walls and floor, installing new fixtures and updating the kitchen wouldn’t fix.

  My real estate agent had joked the former owners died in each other’s arms from an overabundance of love. It seemed incredible that ninety-year-olds would be sexually active, but then if someone had told me Jonathan would find love in another woman’s arms, I wouldn’t have believed that, either.

  When I asked why the house was on the market for so long, the realtor shrugged and said it needed some work. An understatement, to be sure. Maybe no one else wanted to take on the task of refurbishing it. I needed the challenge, something that would consume my every waking moment. I planned on doing most of the work myself. What I couldn’t handle, I’d hire contractors to do.

  The words of the old man next door reverberated in my mind: “That house is cursed. You'd be wise to walk away while you can, girlie." I didn’t heed his advice. I couldn’t. From the moment I stepped across the threshold, I wanted to make that house mine. I was drawn to it. Not to the hand-carved woodwork or spacious backyard where I pictured flower and water gardens, a swing and apple trees, but something else. Something I couldn’t identify.

  Then he pointed a gnarled finger toward the sky. “A black aura surrounds it. See?” I looked up and noticed the roof needed re-shingling. I made a mental note to lower my intended offer even more.

  “Mrs. Turner?”

  Distantly, I could hear someone calling my name. I forced my mind back to the present.

  “Huh? Yes?”

  “Sign here, here and here.”

  I followed the direction of his finger and signed my name again.

  “Okay, that finishes it. Stop by tomorrow ... say, around eleven o’clock, and I’ll have the keys to your new home.”

  I stood. “I’ll do that.” We shook hands. On the way out the door I decided to drive by my new-old h
ouse. Why, I didn't know.

 
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