A Perfect House for Children
When Cody Shipman turned three, his parents decided it was time to leave Boston and look for a house in the suburbs. The crowded city, they reasoned, was no place to raise an active little boy.
"Our son should have a back yard with swings," Leslie Shipman, his mother asserted, "and a toddler swimming pool and one of those green plastic turtle sandboxes. It ought to be a place where we can have family barbecues on the weekend."
Glen, the child's father, agreed.
"And we can buy him a puppy," he added. "Taking care of a dog is a great way for a child to learn responsibility."
"Speaking of responsibility, owning a home will mean a lot more work for both of us," Leslie pointed out. "Living in the brownstone, we never had to mow grass, rake leaves or shovel snow."
"And I'll have to commute to work, which means I'll have less time to spend with you and Cody."
Both parents looked at their son who was staring out the window at the cars on the street three stories below him.
"Of course," Glen continued, "I can work at home when I have no meetings scheduled."
"And we can always hire someone to help out with the outdoor maintenance if it gets too much for us."
Thus, the young couple agreed that for the good of their son they would move out of the city.
The first house they looked at was too small for a growing family. The second, built in the Twenties, needed a lot of updating. The third was located on a busy road, and the back yard in the fourth was too small. The Shipmans were similarly displeased with the next five houses they saw.
"House-hunting is more exhausting in real life than it is on HGTV," Leslie announced after she decided the kitchen in the house they had seen in Beverly was inadequate for the family's needs. "Honestly, I don't think we're ever going to find a house we like."
"Maybe the only way to get everything we want is to have a house custom-built for us."
"No way! It would take months to design. Then there would be the usual red tape in getting permits. Add to that the construction time and inevitable weather delays, and it will be at least two years before we are able to move in. I want to be in our new home before Cody starts kindergarten."
After seeing three more houses, none of which was suitable, the Shipmans' luck changed. From the moment real estate agent Jacqueline Astor turned into the driveway, Leslie and Glen fell in love with the two-story Federal style colonial on Conant Drive.
"Look," Leslie said to her husband, "it's got a fenced-in back yard."
"The house is perfect for children," Jacqueline declared. "The property is flat, so you won't have any difficulty finding level ground for swings or a swimming pool."
"How far away is the elementary school?" Glen asked.
"Less than mile," the agent answered as she took the keys out of her handbag.
When the realtor opened the front door, Leslie's eyes widened with appreciation.
It's beautiful! she thought.
For the next forty minutes, she and Glen examined every room on the two floors, as well as the basement and the attic, all the while plying the realtor with questions.
On the drive home both husband and wife agreed that the house was perfect. No sooner did they return to their Boston brownstone than Glen telephoned Jacqueline Astor and put in an offer. Because they were willing to pay full asking price, the seller accepted the same day.
* * *
Since Glen owned his own company and earned an annual income in the upper six figures, the couple could afford to hire a moving company to pack and transport their belongings. After sending Cody to Glen's parents' house on Cape Cod for the weekend, Leslie was free to supervise the movers. Once all the furnishings were in place in their new home and the majority of their personal belongings unpacked, Glen and Leslie drove down to Falmouth to get their son.
"We're going to move into our new house today," Leslie said when Cody cried that he wanted to stay with his grandparents for another night. "You'll like it there. Daddy and I bought you a swing set and a slide. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Naturally, Cody liked the idea of having his own personal playground more than he liked pushing his Fisher-Price bubble mower on Grandpa Shipman's grass. Nearly bursting with excitement, he grabbed his stuffed dinosaur, kissed his grandparents goodbye and followed his parents out to the car.
After a two-hour drive, the family arrived at their new home. Leslie and Glen immediately took their son to the back yard to ride the swings. Seeing the look of joy on Cody's laughing face as he rode the glider convinced the couple that they had made the right decision in moving to Puritan Falls.
* * *
On Monday morning, following the first weekend in the new home, Glen rose early and headed toward the master bathroom. After showering and shaving, he went downstairs where Leslie had a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal waiting for him.
"Our next-door neighbor told me it's about a fifty-minute to an hour commute to the city in normal traffic," Glen announced. "If it's raining, I can count on another half an hour. In snow, it could be a couple of hours. If there's an accident on the interstate ... who knows? He was helpful enough to tell me about several alternate routes I could travel for times when the interstate comes to a complete stop."
"Just be sure you let me know when you're going to be late," his wife instructed. "You know how I worry when you don't get home on time."
"Do you have any plans for the day?" Glen asked, as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.
"I thought I'd check out that preschool over on Gloucester Street. After that, if the weather's nice, I might take Cody down to the lighthouse."
"Sounds like fun, but you better go early. The weatherman is calling for showers this afternoon."
After seeing her husband off, Leslie immediately began doing her household chores. She remembered a time when she had worked for one of Boston's leading public relations firms and was on the fast-track for a vice presidency in the company. Once Cody was born, she found it increasingly difficult to meet the demands of her career. In the best interest of her family, she resigned her position to become a full-time mother. It was a decision she never regretted.
No sooner did Leslie finish cleaning the master bedroom than Cody woke up, asking for his breakfast. While the child ate his French toast, his mother cleaned the kitchen. Finally, after Cody was dressed, Leslie buckled him in his car seat and headed toward Gloucester Street.
Eunice Mowbray, owner of Tiny Tots Preschool, gave her guests a guided tour of the facilities.
"We have several different programs here," she explained. "They run from two days a week up to five. Parents have a choice of mornings or afternoons, or a combination of both. We're very flexible."
"That's good to know," Leslie said.
"Are you a working mother?" Eunice inquired. "The reason I ask is that, from time to time, we plan field trips and special events, and we need parents to help chaperone the children. It's easier for stay-at-home moms to accommodate us—unless, of course, they have other children still at home."
"No, I don't work outside the home, and I don't have any other children, so feel free to call me if you need any assistance."
"Does that mean you've made a decision to enroll Cody?"
"Yes. The school has excellent references, I'm impressed by your building and the tuition is well within our budget."
"Good. Why don't we go into my office and sign him up? If you'd like, Cody can stay in Miss Emma's classroom while we fill out the necessary papers. I believe it's story time now."
An hour later, after her son was enrolled and scheduled to start classes the following Thursday, Leslie took him to the Puritan Falls lighthouse. She had brought along a box of stale saltines, and the little boy fed them to the seagulls. Unfortunately, Leslie had to cut the visit short when she saw dark storm clouds heading in from the east.
"Let's get home before the rain starts," she told her son.
"Can I play on my swings?" he asked.
"Not if it's raining," she replied, already thinking of ways to amuse her son indoors before nap time.
By mid-afternoon, it was Leslie who needed the nap. Her son had literally worn her out. They colored with crayons, built a castle with LEGOs, played hide and seek, raced matchbox cars and created animal sculptures with Play-Doh.
"Let's do something else," Cody said after going to the window and ascertaining that it was still raining outside.
"Mommy can't play anymore," Leslie told him. "I have to start cooking dinner. Why don't you go sit on the sofa with your blanket, and I'll put on a DVD."
The little boy, although only three, was wise to his mother's attempts to get him to sleep.
"I'm not tired," he insisted.
"I don't expect you to take a nap," she fibbed. "I'll get you some milk and cookies, and you can watch Thomas the Tank."
Once Cody was sitting in front of the television with his snack, he began to yawn and rub his eyes. Leslie knew he would soon be sound asleep.
* * *
While Leslie was chopping onions and peppers for her homemade chili, she heard her son's laughter coming from the family room. She was surprised he had woken up so soon.
"Are you all right in there?" she called to Cody.
"Yeah," he replied. "I'm just playing."
Leslie then browned the beef with the chopped vegetables and added the canned tomatoes and the seasonings. Once all the ingredients for the chili were simmering in the pot, she returned to the family room.
"What are you doing?" she asked Cody, who was standing behind the floor-length drapes.
"Playing hide and seek with my new friend," he replied.
"What new friend is that?"
"Larissa."
"Are you going to introduce me to Larissa? I'd like to meet her."
"She's not here now. She left when you came in the room."
"Why did she do that?"
"She doesn't like grownups."
Leslie was not alarmed by her son's words. It was common for young children to invent playmates.
"Once you go to school, you'll meet other children your age. You'll make friends with them, and then they can come here to play with you."
"Larissa might like that."
"Good. Now, since Larissa isn't here to play with you, why don't I set up your Big Bird bowling game? You and I can play until Daddy comes home."
"I don't think so," he said, looking down at his feet to avoid his mother's eyes.
"Why not? You always loved to play bowling."
"It might make Larissa sad. She wants me to play with her, not you."
"Okay. I'll watch television while you and Larissa play."
The little boy headed toward the staircase.
"Where are you going?"
"Upstairs to my room. Larissa doesn't want to play down here anymore."
"Because I'm here?"
Cody nodded. Leslie made a mental note to phone her son's pediatrician and ask if other children's imaginary friends had an aversion to adults.
* * *
The following day the weather was sunny and warm. Cody played outside on his swings under the careful supervision of his mother. At noon the two of them had a picnic lunch on the back lawn. Around two in the afternoon the little boy's eyes became heavy, and his head began to nod while he was riding on his swing.
"Okay, time for your nap," Leslie announced.
Cody was too sleepy to put up an argument, so his mother carried him into the house and laid him down on the sofa in the family room. Then she picked up her novel and began to read, enjoying a brief respite from her hectic day.
At four-thirty she went to the kitchen, scrubbed potatoes and put them in the oven to bake. She then marinated the steak she would later broil for dinner. While she was preparing a homemade salad dressing, she heard Cody crying.
"What's wrong?" she asked, when she saw her son lying on the floor, whimpering. "Did you fall off the couch?"
"No. Larissa pushed me."
"You must have had a nightmare. Larissa wouldn't push you. You told me she's your friend."
"She is, but she's mad at me."
"Why would she be mad at you?"
"Because I was playing in the back yard. She wants me to stay inside and play with her."
"Why doesn't Larissa go outside and play on the swings with you?"
"She can't leave the house."
"Then maybe you should find a new friend who can play outside."
"I can't. Larissa won't let me."
* * *
The weather the next day was even warmer than the previous one.
"Do you want to have another picnic in the back yard?" Leslie asked Cody when he finished eating his Honey Nut Cheerios.
"No. I want to stay inside and play in my bedroom."
"Why? It's a gorgeous day outside! I'll take your Big Wheels out and you can ride it on the driveway."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Larissa will be mad."
"Larissa will just have to get used to the fact that you can't be with her all the time, that you need to get fresh air and exercise. Now let's get you dressed, and we'll go out and play."
"She'll get mad. You wait and see."
Leslie refused to let an imaginary playmate run her son's life. Consequently, she ignored his protests as she dressed him in his play clothes and sneakers. They then walked downstairs to the basement and through the garage where Leslie picked up the Big Wheels tricycle. But when she opened the door and put the tricycle on the driveway, her son remained silent and immobile inside the garage.
"Aren't you going to ride it?" she asked.
The little boy shook his head.
"Okay. Why don't we play hide and seek, then?" his mother suggested. "There must be dozens of good hiding places in the back yard."
Again, the boy shook his head.
"Come outside," his mother finally insisted. "You're not going to spend the day cooped up inside the house."
Cody took a few tentative steps outside and then stopped and nervously looked up at his bedroom window.
"It's not my fault," he cried. "She's making me do it."
"Larissa can't make you do anything you don't want to do."
"Not Larissa—you! I'm telling her that it's not my fault I can't play with her because you're making me go outside."
"Cody, there is no Larissa," Leslie said, hoping she was not making a mistake that might create future psychological problems for her son. "She's a friend you made up in your imagination."
"No, she's not! She's real. She used to live in this house, and for a long time she had no one to play with. Now that I'm living here, she wants me to be her friend—always."
Leslie took her son in her arms.
"You don't need Larissa. You'll make friends at school tomorrow, and I'm sure there are other children in the neighborhood. I can schedule play dates with their mothers."
"Larissa won't like that. She wants to be my only friend."
"Well, she can't be. I won't allow it!"
Tears began to fall from Cody's wide, innocent eyes.
"She's going to be very mad."
"I don't care. This is my house, not hers. If she doesn't like it, she can leave."
Leslie instantly felt foolish. She had never been given to such immature behavior, not even when she was a child herself.
* * *
"How does Cody like school?" Glen asked when he returned from a business trip to China two weeks later.
"We have to talk," was his wife's terse reply.
"What's wrong?"
"I guess I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to worry you while you were away."
Glen sat down, anticipating bad news.
"Our son has an imaginary friend," Leslie announced.
Her husband laughed with relief.
"Is that all? Hell, lots of kids have them. I had one myself when I was Cody's age."
"Not like Larissa, you didn't."
"Larissa? His imaginary playmate is a girl?"
"Yes, a very possessive, jealous, vindictive little girl, it seems."
The worried frown returned to Glen's face as he waited for his wife to explain.
"He won't say a word in school," she concluded after relaying the events that had transpired while her husband was in China. "He never plays with the other children, and he refuses to participate in any of the activities. He just sits there like a ... a zombie."
"He's only been in school for a couple of weeks. Maybe he's homesick or just plain shy."
"He acts the same way at home. He wants to stay in his bedroom all day. He won't go outside or even play in the family room."
"Why not?"
"He claims that Larissa will be mad at him if he does."
"Did you call his pediatrician?"
"She suggested we talk to a child psychologist."
"Is it that serious?"
"I'm afraid so. Both his teacher and the owner of the preschool feel the same way. They think it might be that Cody needs help adjusting to the move."
"That's strange. He didn't seem at all reluctant to leave Boston. On the contrary, he was excited about moving into a house with a back yard. He wanted swings, a sandbox, a dog ...."
Glen's face lit up with hope.
"Maybe that's what we should do. Maybe we should buy Cody a dog. It might make him forget his imaginary friend."
The next morning Leslie took her son to an animal shelter in nearby Essex Green. Since Cody did not show a preference for any of the animals, she picked a collie with a quiet, gentle disposition.
"Don't you think she looks like Lassie?" the mother asked as they drove back to Puritan Falls.
"I guess so," the child replied unenthusiastically.
"What do you want to name her?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders and continued to stare out the window.
"Then we'll just keep the name the shelter gave her: Penny."
There was no reply from the boy, and Leslie feared owning a dog was not going to magically rectify the troubling situation of the imaginary friend.
* * *
"That's a beautiful dog," Glen declared when he returned home from work that evening. "I'll bet Cody is crazy about her."
The look on his wife's face told him otherwise.
"He hasn't even petted her. When we got back from the shelter, he went upstairs to his bedroom. He hasn't come down yet, not even for lunch."
"I'll go up and get him. He's got to eat his dinner. Come on, girl," he called to the collie.
The dog wagged her tail and followed him up the stairs. She stopped when Glen opened the door to his son's room.
"What's wrong?" he asked the collie, when she growled and backed up away from the threshold.
"Larissa doesn't like dogs," Cody explained.
"Dinner's ready. Come on downstairs. You can play with Larissa after you eat."
As Glen watched his son shuffle out of the room with his head down, he realized the sooner Cody got professional help, the sooner he and Leslie would be able to sleep peacefully at night.
* * *
"Any move can be stressful for a small child," Emerson Pinckney, one of New England's foremost child psychologists, explained. "And one from an apartment in the city to a large house in the country is particularly traumatic, especially when the child is also expected to begin preschool. Everything your son was accustomed to in Boston has suddenly changed."
"I thought young children were supposed to be adaptable," Leslie said.
"Most of them are. Your son, however, seems to be less adaptable than others his age."
"Doctor, please be honest with me," the mother pleaded. "Is there something wrong with him?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Shipman! Your son seems to be a perfectly normal little boy. He just finds himself in a distressing situation and now must come to terms with it. Once he does, I have no doubt you'll see the last of Larissa."
"Thank God!" Leslie exclaimed. "I was afraid that one day he would bend his index finger and cry 'redrum' like that kid in The Shining!"
"No, no," the psychologist said with a chuckle. "There's nothing for you or your husband to worry about. In a few weeks—hopefully sooner—your son will be back to his happy, outgoing self."
Not even the heavy traffic she encountered on her drive home from Dr. Pinckney's Cambridge office dampened Leslie's high spirits.
There's nothing seriously wrong with Cody. He's going to be all right!
When she arrived home, she immediately phoned her husband and told him the good news.
"Now you can go to Seattle without worrying about Cody."
"Actually, I was thinking about postponing the trip for a month or two," Glen confided in his wife.
"And run the risk of someone stealing the account from you? No way. Besides, I'm more than capable of watching Cody for a few days."
"I just feel guilty leaving you at a time like this, especially so soon after my trip to China."
"Nonsense! You've got a business to run. We'll be fine," Leslie insisted. "Who knows? Maybe by the time you get back, Larissa will be gone!"
"I sure hope so."
* * *
At eight o'clock, Leslie went up to her son's bedroom and told him it was time for him to take his bath.
"Not now, Mom. We want to play a little bit longer," Cody said, looking up from the skyscraper of LEGOs he was building.
"Sorry, but you have school tomorrow and have to be in bed by nine."
"I thought I didn't have to go to school anymore."
"Dr. Pinckney thinks you should. He thinks it's good for you to be around children your own age."
"But Larissa doesn't want me to go to school. She wants me to stay here with her."
"Larissa doesn't make the rules in this house. Your father and I do. Now, come on, it's time for your bath."
"She's going to be mad," Cody whimpered as he passed his mother in the doorway.
"She'll just have to get used to it."
Leslie was startled when the LEGO skyscraper crashed down and the brightly colored plastic building bricks scattered across the floor.
"I told you so," Cody said and walked across the hall to the bathroom. "You've made Larissa mad."
* * *
It was the sound of Penny's growl that woke Leslie from her sleep later that night. Her eyes went to the alarm clock beside the bed. It was only five minutes to three.
"Be quiet, girl," she sleepily said.
Once the collie was silent, Leslie heard footsteps in the hall.
"Cody, is that you?" she cried, now fully awake.
She got out of bed and crossed the room, reaching the doorway in time to see her son fall from the top step of the staircase.
"Cody!" she screamed.
Seeing her child lying still at the bottom of the stairs, Leslie feared the worst. The worried mother ran down the stairs and lifted Cody's arm. When she felt a strong pulse in his tiny wrist, she wept with joy. Afraid that she might damage his spine should she try to move him, she went to the kitchen and called 911.
* * *
Sarah Ryerson, the emergency room physician at Puritan Falls Hospital, spoke to Leslie after completing her examination of Cody.
"Your son has a mild concussion and a broken arm. I'd like to keep him here overnight, just as a precaution."
Emotionally exhausted, Leslie collapsed on the waiting room chair, put her head back and closed her eyes.
"Thank you, Doctor!" she said.
Another woman joined them a few moments later.
"Mrs. Shipman? I'm Shirley Dietz. I work for Youth Services. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
"About what?" Leslie asked, sensing trouble.
"You claim you woke in the middle of the night to find your son at the foot of the stairs. Is that correct?"
"No, not exactly. After the dog woke me up, I heard footsteps. I went to the hallway, and I saw my son tumble down the stairs."
"You're telling me your son fell for no apparent reason?"
"Yes. Why are you asking me these questions? Surely you don't think I had anything to do with his accident?"
Neither Shirley Dietz nor Dr. Ryerson replied.
"I'd never hurt Cody!"
"During my examination, I found a number of bruises on your son," the physician explained.
"Isn't that to be expected? He fell down a flight of stairs."
"The contusions were in various stages of healing. Some looked only a few days old, others as old as a week."
"He's an active little boy," Leslie protested.
"I have to be honest with you, Mrs. Shipman," Dr. Ryerson declared. "These are the types of injuries one usually finds in cases of child abuse. If you're not responsible, then perhaps your husband ...."
"Never! Glen is a wonderful, loving, patient father. He'd cut off his arm before he'd raise it to Cody. Besides, he's in Seattle on business."
"I'm afraid I have no choice but to open an investigation," Shirley informed the mother. "We can't take any chances when a child's safety is in question."
Leslie leaned forward and put her head in her hands.
"Doctor, Ms. Dietz, my son has been having some problems since we moved here from Boston."
"What do you mean by 'problems'?" the social worker asked.
Leslie briefly explained Cody's imaginary friend and his visit to the psychologist.
"I think it's possible he may have hurt himself in order to prove to us that Larissa really exists," the distraught mother theorized.
"I'm afraid your explanation doesn't conform to the facts," Sarah said.
"Why not?"
"Because many of the bruises are in areas where they couldn't possibly have been self-inflicted."
* * *
Unable to visit her son without someone from Youth Services being present, Leslie left the hospital after seeing for herself that Cody was all right.
"I'll be back later," she promised him. "I'm going home to walk Penny and feed her."
"Be careful, Mom," the child cautioned in a low voice so the social worker could not overhear. "Larissa is really angry."
As Leslie approached the front door of her house, she heard Penny whining and growling in the foyer. The collie was overjoyed at her owner's return.
"What's wrong, girl? Do you have to go that bad?"
After a quick walk, Leslie brought the dog back to the house. Penny crawled inside with her tail between her legs.
"Don't worry. If you had an accident, I ...."
There was a noise from the second floor, and the fur on Penny's back stood up. She then commenced her growling and whining again.
Startled, Leslie went upstairs to investigate. When she opened the door to her son's bedroom, she was amazed at the state it was in. All the toys had been taken out of the toy chest and thrown about the room. The bookshelves, dresser and closet were similarly emptied. How could her three-year-old son have caused such a mess?
"Cody could never have reached the stuff on the top of his closet. He's not tall enough."
When Leslie bent over and picked up his favorite teddy bear, a metal die-cast car flew past her, nearly striking her in the head. Her hand went to her mouth in horror.
Metal cars don't fly through the air of their own accord!
* * *
It was a short ride from her home to the Puritan Falls Town Hall. The town clerk directed her to the department of public records on the second floor.
"May I help you?" the young woman at the desk asked.
"I hope so. My family recently moved into a house on Conant Drive, and I would like to know who lived there before we moved in. Is it possible to get this information or is this request in violation of someone's right to privacy?"
"No. Home ownership is a matter of public record. Give me your exact address, and I'll go look up the history in our computerized tax records database."
Ten minutes later the woman handed a computer printout to Leslie, who was surprised by the length of the list.
"It doesn't look like people stay in that house for any length of time," the young woman observed.
Leslie had a good idea why, but she wanted to speak to the previous owners and see if they could confirm her suspicions.
* * *
"Is this Mrs. Robert Furness, formerly of Puritan Falls?" Leslie asked when a woman answered her phone call.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"You don't know me, but I just moved into your former home on Conant Drive."
There was a silence at the other end of the line.
"Mrs. Furness, did you or your family ever experience anything unusual while you lived there?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Did you have any young children living with you in that house?"
The woman hesitated before responding.
"I can only deduce from your questions that you've encountered Larissa."
Leslie felt an icy finger of fear trace a path down her spine.
"So she is real? I thought my son made her up."
"She's real, all right. And if your son has seen her, then I advise you to get him out of that house as soon as possible."
"Why? Who is she?"
"She was the daughter of the original owner of the house."
"But the house was built back in 1810."
"Yes, and in 1816, Larissa fell down the attic stairs and broke her neck."
"You can't tell me you honestly believe ...."
Leslie heard the click of the receiver and realized Mrs. Furness was no longer at the other end of the line.
* * *
Although the idea of returning to the house on Conant Drive terrified her, Leslie had to discover the truth about Larissa. If she failed to, she might never convince Youth Services that she was a fit mother.
Penny was again waiting by the door for her owner's return.
"Good girl," she said, affectionately patting the dog's head.
The collie followed her up the stairs, but again stopped at the entrance to Cody's room.
"Larissa, are you here? I want to talk to you."
A muffled sound came from the attic above. Penny barked and tried to lead Leslie back down the stairs.
"I'm sorry, girl, but I have to go up."
The dog whimpered and sat by the door to the master bedroom, watching every step her owner took. She howled when Leslie opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside the attic.
When the real estate agent had given the Shipmans a tour of the house during the initial showing, the attic had been empty. Now, however, the room was littered with toys—not modern ones but the playthings of a bygone era. From the collection of European porcelain dolls to the hand-crafted metal toy soldiers, the place was an antique toy collector's dream.
"I know you're up here," Leslie said in a quivering voice.
A high-pitched giggle echoed in the rafters.
The terrified woman trembled after receiving positive proof of Larissa's existence.
"Why don't you show yourself to me?"
"Is that what you want?" the little girl asked, as she materialized into a semitransparent figure standing beside a large Victorian doll house.
"You hurt my son," Leslie accused the spirit.
"I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to play with him. I've waited for someone to play with for so long, but all the grownups that move into this house take their children away when they learn about me."
"That's because they love them and don't want you to hurt them."
"You plan on taking Cody away, don't you?"
"Yes. I can't let my son become a prisoner inside his room, living at the beck and call of a ghost."
Larissa looked at Leslie with a malevolent smile and a steely glint in her eye.
"You don't have to worry about Cody. I won't need him anymore."
* * *
"What happened to you, little fellow?" Jacqueline Astor asked when she saw Cody's arm in a cast and sling.
"I fell down the stairs," he replied.
Glen shielded his son from further questions by suggesting that the realtor sit down at the dining room table to discuss the particulars of the sale.
"I think the asking price is too low," the agent suggested. "You could get another twenty to thirty thousand easily."
"I don't care about the money. I just want to sell the place as quickly as possible."
"May I ask why?"
"My son and I are anxious to get on with our lives."
"And Penny, too," Cody added, hugging the collie close to him.
"And Penny, too," his father agreed, relieved at the change that had come over his son since he was released from the hospital.
"Okay. I've drawn up the contract. Just sign here, and I'll put your home on the market for you."
Glen's hand trembled as he scribbled his name on the dotted line. It was not that long ago that he and Leslie had signed papers at the closing, making them the rightful owners of the house.
Don't think about that! he warned himself. You mustn't dwell on those wonderful plans that all went terribly awry.
"Will our new house have a back yard?" Cody asked once Jacqueline had left. "And a swing set, too?"
"Yes to both. And the house will be south of Boston, so we can be closer to Falmouth. Now, let's get what we need for now. The movers will pack up our clothing and send it to us at Grandma's house. Everything else will be put in storage until we find a house of our own."
After packing a few days' worth of outfits and toiletries into his suitcase, Glen walked across the hall to his son's room. He piled some clothes and toys into several storage boxes and took them outside to his car. When he reentered the house, his eyes went to the large framed family portrait hanging above the fireplace mantel. Tears brimmed in his eyes when he remembered how much he had loved his wife.
If only I'd known how sick she was, he thought.
He still found it hard to believe Leslie had taken her own life by throwing herself down the attic stairs. Even more so, it was difficult to believe that she had physically abused their son or that she had caused him—intentionally or unintentionally—to fall down the stairs.
She could have killed him!
"I got Penny's food bowl and her box of puppy biscuits," Cody announced, as he held tightly to the collie's leash. "I couldn't find her kibbles, though."
"That's okay. I'll stop and get some at the grocery store on the way to Grandma's," Glen replied. "Well, son, let's get going. I want to get to Falmouth before it gets dark."
As he headed for the front door, Cody turned and waved goodbye to Larissa, who was holding tightly onto Leslie's hand. Glen could not see the little girl, nor could he see the ghost of his late wife, who had sacrificed her own life and become Larissa's playmate for all eternity to guarantee her son's safety and happiness.
Salem decided it was time for his imaginary playmate to go when he noticed his chocolate supply was dwindling.
