Dave untied the cords that held the six journals and opened the first one dated 1938-1941. Joe, who had tired of bending over Dave's shoulder to read the letter, stretched and suggested they all see what the rest of the mansion looked like.

"Dave?" Joe called out softly to Dave, who had his nose buried in the journal.

"Hmm?"

"Close that book and come on."

"Mmm 'kay," Dave said without looking up, he started reading.

(Dave did a quick calculation in his head and figured that $35.00 was equal to around $350.00 or more today)

Dave's reading was interrupted as a strong breeze swept over the books, blowing the opened one towards the edge of the desk as if an unseen hand had swiped at it. Dave grabbed for it as it slid across the desk, but missed. He leaned down to pick it up. The rest of them slid to the edge and toppled off on Dave's head. Dave scrambled to gather them up. He stacked them back on the desk top and stood up, keeping his hand on top of them. He looked to see if either of the other two men had seen what had happened. Joe was outside the door and Clyde was sitting on the couch reading. Neither had seen the strange occurrence.

"Dave, you can read those later. Come on, let's go explore," Joe said, sticking his head back into the room.

Clyde closed the book that had grabbed his attention, laid it on the big old leather couch and stood up. Both men looked at Dave.

Dave carefully tied the cords back around the stack. He picked the stack up, clutched it to his chest and followed Clyde and Joe out of the study. He set the tied stack in the middle of the huge round table that sat in the middle of the foyer at the foot of the grand staircase. He tightened the bow and turned to follow the other two men up the stairs.

"Let's see what Edith's study looks like, first," Joe suggested.

"Certainly," Dave responded.

Clyde led the way through the dining room to Edith's study. The door wasn't locked, so the three men trooped in.

Dave stopped inside the door and looked around. He shivered; the room felt chilly compared to the rest of the house. Neither Clyde nor Joe seemed to notice the change in temperature. The room was decorated like a young girl's bedroom would have been, all in white and pink. The cases of dark-bound books stood out harshly against the soft pastel colors, as did the Corinthian leather blotter and black utilitarian telephone on top of the desk.

Dave moved cautiously into the room. He looked at the items on the desk more closely. What caught his eye was the photograph of a young man. He looked vaguely familiar. The man in the photo reminded Dave of someone, he couldn't quite figure out who. He walked over and picked it up to read the inscription. "To Edith, the love of my life. I will always be with you in spirit, Buddy." Dave wondered if the Buddy mentioned on the first page of the journal was the same one in the photo. He wondered if the cold beauty standing close to the man who had his arm around her waist was also the one mentioned in the journal, and if it was Mrs. Way. He felt there was a tragic story to be discovered here. Joe looked over his shoulder at the photo.

"Dave, is that a photo of Bill? It looks just like him except he's dressed in 1940's clothes."

"No, the man's name is Buddy and that," he pointed at the woman in the photo, "must be Edith Way, Bill's mother."

"So this guy isn't William, Bill's dad?"

"You saw the painting of William in his study. This is definitely not him."

"Hmm." Joe kept his thoughts to himself as he turned to look at more of the room.

There was a painting of a beautiful young woman on the wall behind the desk. Dave knew from the brief description on the first page of the journal and the inscription on the photo, that it was of Edith. He couldn't see how the harridan that had screeched obscenities at him each time he'd seen her could have ever been that beautiful. Joe stepped up and tugged on the right edge of the frame. It came off the wall and he almost dropped it in surprise.

"No hidden safe here," he said, as he hung it back on its nail.

"No Edith's safe is in her bedroom," Clyde said.

"Well, shall we head upstairs?" Dave asked.

At the top of the staircase Clyde stopped and said, "To the right is Edith's wing and to the left was William's."

Dave wondered at the difference in tenses as Clyde mentioned their names. Maybe he felt that Edith's spirit hadn't quite let go of her worldly possessions.

"Shall we toss a coin?" Joe asked.

A sudden cold breeze blew down Dave's neck. He shuddered. "Did you feel that?" he asked.

"Feel what, Dave?"

"That cold breeze."

"I think your imagination is getting to you, Babe."

"Anyway, I would like to explore Bill's dad's rooms first." Dave said, glancing toward Edith's wing to make sure she really wasn't watching.

"Let's do it," Joe said like and eager kid.

Clyde caught Dave's eye and grinned in amusement as he nodded toward the hall down which Joe had already disappeared. Dave scurried after Joe as Clyde followed. "I've never been in this wing. So it is all as new to me as it is to you. I would assume that the rooms in William's wing will be the same as those in Edith's wing," he said.

Before they got to the heavy oak double doors leading into the master suite they heard Joe in the room adjacent to it.

"Dave, come in here. It's a memorial to Bill."

Dave stepped into the room and gasped. It was a young boy's room. A single bed in the corner next to the window, a chest of drawers and a student desk with a chair were the only pieces of furniture in the room.... except for a big club chair. They were all of an earlier period, but looked like they were brand new. 'This would have been Bill's room if he'd been allowed to live with his dad,' Dave thought. The well used club chair looked out of place. Dave could see that William had spent many hours in this room, sitting in this chair. What was amazing was that the walls were covered in framed photographs of Bill from babyhood to soon before William's death.

As Dave studied the ones of Bill's later life he realized that all the shots were taken covertly. He recognized the backgrounds of many of them. Some were taken in the bookstore, others around the campus, and some even around their home. Many of them were shots of Bill and Dave together; some in moments of light intimacy. On the desk there was a 'blow-up' of Bill and himself holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. It looked like it had been posed for. He wondered when the moment had been, and how the shot could have been taken without them being conscious of it. The background was blurred so Dave couldn't identify the location of the shot.

"That man really loved his son," Joe commented in a quiet reverent voice filled with awe.

"I wonder if Edith ever ventured into this room," Dave said.

"I seriously doubt it," Clyde ventured. "She lived in her own little self-contained world and seldom ventured out. If you will notice the key that opened this door was on the small ring of keys attached to the larger ring, and there is not a matching key on the large ring. Those keys on the small ring were William's personal keys. Before handing them over to you today, I attached them to the large ring which had been Edith's. I removed them from a sealed envelope that contained William's personal effects, apparently sealed at the time of his death. Edith had given it to my care, to be given to Bill at the time of her death. She said that the coroner had given it to her already sealed and that she wasn't interested in its contents. The rest of the envelope's contents will all be handed over to you, Dave."

Dave only nodded as he continued to study the photos.

"Are you ready to go into the master suite, Dave?"

"Sure," Dave said, coming out of his revery. As he turned to leave, the framed photos on the wall clattered as though a wave had washed around the room. Dave's hair stood on end as he glanced around the room. Had he imagined that? Shaking his head, he hurried out and closed the door.

Joe and Clyde had already entered the master suite that had been Bill's father's refuge from the world. As Dave stepped into the mammoth room, Joe swept open one of the many heavy drapes that closed out the light. The entire room was covered in magnificent exotic hardwoods. Sixteen feet above their heads the coffered ceiling drew Dave eye to its magnificence. The amount of mahogany and walnut used in it could have built a normal house.

Clyde's cell phone chimed. He turned toward the door as he answered it. "Excuse me a moment," he said into his cell and turned to Dave and Joe. "Please forgive me, I must take this call. I'll catch up with you when I've finished."

"No problem," Dave said as he walked toward the big king sized sleigh bed made of very rare curly teak. The bed alone, screamed wealth. He looked for Joe, who had wandered to the far end of the room. He was running a hand over the black marble mantle. Dave felt the need to be close to Joe and walked briskly over to him. Joe picked up on the need, and enveloped him in his arms.

"How does it feel knowing that all of this is yours, Babe?" Joe asked, as he gently rocked Dave back and forth.

"Unreal. Not true. I feel like an interloper. This place is haunted, Joe." Dave clung to Joe's waist. He turned his face up to Joe who lowered his lips to meet his. For more than a minute they kissed. Joe finally broke it, pulled Dave over to one of the large high backed chairs and sat down. Dave automatically sat on his lap and laid his head on Joe's shoulder.

"Well, all of this is yours, Dave. Have you thought about what you want to do with it? You don't want to live here do you?"

"Good God! No! The vibes in this place give me the shitters. Damn! I meant shivers, and this place scares the shit out of me, too." Dave jumped up and paced to the fireplace and turned. He hardly ever cursed, and then it was only when he was very upset.

Joe was laughing at Dave's combining the two words. "I think shitters fits," he said.

"Joe, let's get out of here. I've had enough of this for today."

"Sure, Babe. If that's what you want to do. We haven't gone through Edith's end yet."

"Not today. I've just got to get out of here." He took Joe's hand and headed for the door.

Joe stopped long enough to lock the door and then turned to lock the door to Bill's room. Dave didn't wait. Joe, with his long legs, quickly strode down the hall and caught up with him. Both of them hesitated at the top of the staircase and looked down the hall towards Edith's wing. Neither man said anything to the other as they turned and hurried down the stairs as quickly as their feet could move.

Dave was nearly running when he got to the front door. He suddenly stopped and Joe ran into him, nearly taking both of them to the ground. Only by grabbing Dave and whirling around did he manage to keep them both on their feet.

"What'd you stop for?"

"I forgot the journals." He broke away from Joe and ran back through the big room to the table at the base of the stairs. The journals weren't where he had set them. Dave turned, looking around the room. He wondered if Clyde had picked them up. And then he noticed that they were strewn under the table. He dropped to his knees, crawled under and started gathering them up. Something icy grazed his cheek. With the journals clutched to his chest, he started crawling out from under the table. Joe, who stood in the doorway watching, saw the huge heavy cut crystal vase in the middle of the table slide toward the edge. He yelled out as he ran toward the table, but before Joe could get to it, the vase toppled off, hitting Dave on the back of his head before hitting the marble floor and shattering.

Clyde heard the shattering glass and rushed back in to see Dave lying with his head in Joe's lap.... his legs still under the table. Clyde gathered the journals into a stack as Joe gently felt Dave's head. Dave moaned. There was a large bump forming, but other than that, there seemed no other harm was done to him.

"He must have risen up under the edge of the table and knocked himself out," Clyde said.

"The vase would be on the other side of the table if that were the case. No, the vase slid, like it had been pushed, before falling off and hitting him on the back of the head."

Sitting back on his heels, Clyde studied the glass shards and Dave's position. He shook his head not wanting to believe what it implied.

Before Joe could say anything else, Dave's eye lids fluttered, he groaned again and then they opened. Slowly, he focused on Joe's face.

"Edith got me a good one," he uttered.

Clyde let out a sharp bark of nervous laughter. "Edith? Are you gentlemen alright? You both look like you have seen a ghost."

They both looked at each other and then back at Clyde.

"You didn't see her?" Dave asked.

"See who?"

"Edith Way. She was standing in front of her bedroom door."

"So, you saw her, too?" Joe asked. "I thought my imagination was working overtime."

Clyde gave out with another short bark. "Really! You are both grown men. There is no such thing as a ghost."

Dave looked at Joe. "What exactly did you see?"

"I saw an old woman dressed in black. Her arms were folded under her bosom. She was standing with her feet wide apart as though guarding the door to her bedroom."

"Clyde," Dave said. He sat up and turned to him. "That is exactly what I saw. If it wasn't a ghost, then it had to have been her in person. He rubbed the bump on the back of his head. "But she wasn't screaming at me so it couldn't have been her, could it?"

"I had the unpleasant duty of having to identify her body. So I know for a fact that she is dead and buried, Dave. And I don't believe in ghosts."

"Well, there is no point in arguing about it right now. Let's get out of here," Joe said.

He helped Dave to his feet and held onto his arm as they moved toward the door. Clyde picked up the journals and hurried to open the door. He allowed the two men to exit and then followed them. When he turned to close the door, it slammed right in his face.

He muttered something about strange damned winds as he hurried to lock the door and give the keys back to Dave.

The journals were stacked on the coffee table in the den. Dave stared at them from the doorway, his arms folded tightly against his chest. He couldn't get the image of Edith's ghost out of his head. Joe was in the kitchen preparing dinner, the occasional clatter of pots and pans audible in the background. He was torn between wanting to be with Joe, and wanting to sit down and find out what secrets the six books held. He heard his name called softly and turned to see Joe standing in the kitchen door with a pot in his hand.

"Come keep me company, Babe, while I cook."

Dave smiled, relieved that the decision had been made for him. He wrapped his arms around Joe's waist as he peered around him to see what he was concocting on the stove. Joe kissed him on the forehead.

"Umm, that smells good. I hadn't realized it, but I am starving."

Joe served up poached chicken breasts dressed with a light garlicky sauce, spaghetti carbonara, coarsely shredded carrots that had been lightly sauteed in butter with a touch of brown sugar to enhance their natural sweetness, and a salad of baby field greens with a lemon vinaigrette.

Dave sat down grinning at his lover and attacked the food with gusto. Joe couldn't have been more satisfied with his culinary efforts.

After cleaning up the kitchen, they settled on the sleek leather sofa with steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee and stared at the stack of journals.

"I feel kind of voyeurish just thinking of reading those books," Joe muttered.

"Nonsense, you saw in the letter that William gave Bill permission to publish them if he saw fit."

"I know, but this is a little different from reading a printed book."

Dave reached over and picked up the top journal that he had started reading earlier.

"You want to read together?" he asked.

"No, I want to peruse the last volume I think," Joe said, slipping the bottom book out from under the other four. He snuggled into a corner of the sofa, making himself a cozy nest. Having shucked his shoes, he plopped his feet on the coffee table. Dave swivelled around and laid his head on Joe's thigh as he stretched out on the length of the sofa. Both became absorbed in what they were reading.

Sometime later, Dave interrupted Joe's reading. "Listen to this."

Dave scanned on to the next page.

Dave flipped the page. Scanned down the page through numerous entries.

Joe laid down the volume that he had been perusing. "This is like getting a glimpse of history first hand. Go to November of Forty-one, just before we got into the war," he suggested.

Dave skipped several pages. "Ah, here it is," he said, and started reading aloud again.

Dave turned forward several pages until he came to a letter attached to a page. Joe was leaning against him reading right along with him.

Dave unfolded the letter and held it where Joe could read it, too.

Joe finished reading the letter and raised his eyes to Dave's face. Dave had tears running down his cheeks. Dave folded the letter, wiped his face and continued scanning through the entries. He turned the page and found another letter attached to the page.

Dave unfolded the letter and read it aloud to Joe.

"Wow! I wonder what happened to them all." Joe said as he watched Dave refold the letter.

Dave closed the journal and stretched his arms over his head and arched his back.

"Let's find out tomorrow, I am bushed."

Joe got up as Dave leaned forward and placed the book on the coffee table. He held out his hands to Dave and pulled him up and into his arms. His eyes were burnished gold as he stared into his lover's.

"You know how lucky we are to have been born into this time period?" Joe asked. "I'd hate to have to hide my love for you." His lips sought Dave's.

"Mmmm," was all that Dave managed to get out as his passion for Joe took over and he became totally involved in the kiss.