"Do you think we will finish the renovations before Christmas?" I ask across the table from mum and Jake at The Bluebird Cafe.

"I doubt it," Jake replies, his face scrunching up. "That's only a few weeks away."

"What about for my birthday?" I try again.

Jake looks at mum, who has just finished giving our order to the waiter. "Sorry, hun, what was that?" she asks.

"Do you think the mansion will be ready by my birthday?"

"I'm not sure, sweetheart," she answers. "But I hope so. Why do you ask?"

I pretend not to care as I say, "Oh, no reason." But that's not true. I desperately want the mansion renovations to be done, at least on the ground floor, by then as I want to have my sixteenth birthday party in the ballroom. It seems like such a cool idea; a DJ, great music, maybe even some disco lights, and of course, Ellie, and Ben will be there too. I just don't know how to bring it up without feeling embarrassed.

My mind wanders to Ben. In the short time since we moved here, I've been talking to him a lot more, even more than I have with Ellie. There's a connection between us, but I'm afraid to acknowledge it and potentially ruin things. But just imagine, Ben and I dancing on the floor, swaying to a romantic love song, and then, out of nowhere; he kisses me. It'd be my first proper kiss.

"Ais, are you okay?" mum's voice snaps me back to reality. "The food's here."

"Oh, thanks," I mutter as I grab a French fry and quickly devour it. Across from me, mum and Jake snuggle up in their side of the booth, looking happy as can be. And while I'm genuinely happy for them, I also feel a tinge of envy. Yes, I have plenty of time to experience these things being young, but sometimes I just want that kind of happiness too.

At least my fries taste great; just the right amount of salty goodness, and they're perfectly crisp too. My token cheeseburger remains untouched on my plate, its shiny brioche bun reflecting the lamp's light above us. I take a satisfying bite, juices running down my hand and onto the table.

Jake notices. He laughs as I frantically clean up with a napkin. "Can't take you anywhere, Ais."

I roll my eyes, sticking out my tongue. "You two are as bad as each other," mum remarks, chuckling. "Shall we talk about the rest of the designs now?" I nod.

"Dare I bring up the foyer?" Jake asks cautiously, mum's expression growing serious.

I confidently reply with a simple "Sure," leaving her in shock as her mouth hangs open. I enjoy surprising her; it keeps her on her toes. "I've been brainstorming some ideas on how we could do it. Look at this colour palette." I quickly scroll through my gallery and pull up an image of a foyer with similar features, a subtle wall colour and wainscoting. But it also has a modern twist with small pops of contemporary stained-glass in the windows that bring in a rainbow of colours when sunlight shines through, creating a vibrant effect against the plain walls.

As mum and Jake survey the picture, I continue explaining my ideas. "We could also incorporate your love for vintage patterns into the furniture, like a patterned chaise paired with modern chairs. I haven't fully fleshed out all the details yet."

After some discussion, we decide on eggshell coloured paint and we're incorporating stained glass. As a compromise, we agree to use vintage-inspired wallpaper in the hallways, which I am surprisingly content with. Finalising our design choices over bowls of ice cream has put us all in a cheerful mood.

After our meal, we make our way back to the cabin and fall into our nighttime routine. Tonight, I pray that sleep comes easily, especially after the emotional toll of today. As I lie in my temporary bed, I'm lulled to sleep by the peaceful sounds of the forest just outside my window.

As sleep takes hold, the familiar fog of my dreams surrounds me. The ghost's face emerges, his melancholic smile luring me into a glimpse of the past.

I stand in a quaint nursery. Sunlight filtering through delicate lace curtains. The ghost embraces a pregnant woman; his wife, I realise. He kneels, kissing her round belly while she laughs. But the things seem to shift. His wife paces the nursery, rubbing her back.

"Just Braxton Hicks contractions," she sighs. He rushes to her with brows furrowed, helping her into the rocking chair. Massaging her shoulders, he comforts her. After a few moments, her expression returns to the familiar smile.

"I'm fine, my dear," she assures him. "But just to be safe, maybe we should call the doctor."

He nods and heads downstairs to the kitchen, making the phone call. As he speaks with the doctor, his brow crease with worry, before hanging up and returning to his wife.

"I'm afraid I must leave for a business trip tonight," he tells her, regretfully.

She squeezes his hand. "Don't worry, our little one isn't ready to come into this world just yet," she says calmly.

He bends down to caress her belly again. "You behave yourself while I'm away, little one," he whispers before they both fade away.

But once again, the scene shifts. We're still in the nursery, but it feels different somehow. It's still incomplete. The crib remains partially assembled and the rocking chair remains unpainted. On a workbench lies a beautifully carved wooden train, waiting for the final touches. He stands in the centre of the room, gazing around wistfully before disappearing once more.

My heart pounds, burdened by this family's pain. I have to share my dream with mum. Even though it's unnerving, I think he's trying to tell me something important, and I can't let fear stop me from discovering the truth. I just wish I knew what he needs me to do.

I sit across from my mum and Jake, picking at my breakfast as I recount the dream. Mum listens intently, brows furrowed with concern and curiosity. "Aislinn, these dreams seem so vivid," she says. "Perhaps it's worth exploring."

Jake nods. "I've always been a sucker for a good mystery. And if this is the ghost's way of reaching out, I say we dig a little deeper. Plus, it'll give me a chance to eyeball the furniture that needs work."

Mum bites her lip, then concedes. "Alright. We need to meet up with the electrician and plumber, anyway. If we're going to bring this old mansion back to life, it's best we stay in touch with every part of its restoration."

Our tires crunch on the dirt driveway as we pull up to the mansion where Jim and Andy have based their teams from. I step out of the truck, squinting against the glare reflecting off the windows. Sounds fill the air, evidence of progress; the thud of hammers against wood, drills whirring as they bore through walls, and a chorus of tradies calling out measurements and directions.

We weave our way through a ladders and tools as mum flags down Jim. Dust smears his face as he balances his phone between his ear and shoulder, deftly splicing wires. "Morning, Audrey! Your timing's good," he says with a grin, his voice booming over the din.

Jim puts his phone in his pocket and extends his hand to shake Jake's. "The installation of the new circuit breakers has taken longer than expected, and we still have several more days before all systems on the ground floor can be tested. Hopefully, we'll have this floor done in the next week or so, though. I'm sorry it's not better news," he says. Jim details the unexpected issues they've faced, including the replacement of faulty wiring. I feel disappointed, and I see it on mum's face too. It seems like every time we make some progress, another obstacle appears.

As we meander through the house, I watch Jake mentally planning out the perfect spot for his furniture restoration workshop. We finally locate Andy in the ground floor bathroom, focused on a stripped wall he's inspecting. He notices us entering and stands from his crouched position.

Andy's face is flushed, with beads of sweat on his hairline. He nods a greeting as he approaches, wiping his forehead with his arm. "Good morning, folks. Got a bit of an update for you. We've made progress replacing the old lead pipes with copper, and we're working on patching up what's left. It's a bit of a mess, but nothing we can't handle. Hopefully, we'll have running water in the kitchen and downstairs bathrooms by the end of the week."

Mum's lips curve into a smile as she jots down notes in her little notebook. I hover close behind, watching as they transform our home into something functional. My eyes gravitate towards the small details that go unnoticed by others. There's beauty in the chaos. Movement stirs up dust, allowing the light to reveal stories hidden in the peeling wallpaper and plaster.

Mum discusses logistics with Andy, who nods, pulling out a crinkled blueprint from his back pocket. The paper looks like it's been through wars of its own, with frayed edges and stains of toil. They lean over the blueprint as they trace lines and debate over placing a new fixture or rerouting a stubborn pipe.

Something compels me towards the staircase. As I ascend, each step groans under my weight. I feel an odd sensation urging me to go back to the attic, so I search for the hidden stairs. Confused about my purpose, I aimlessly wander, relying on the faint glow of my phone to lead me.

After what seems like an eternity, a refreshing cool breeze passes through me, forming goosebumps on my arms. I shudder, questioning if the ghostly man or the mysterious woman, or perhaps something else I don't know about, is the cause. As I squint to get a better look, a hazy mist forms into the shape of a man. He looks kind and familiar as he gazes at me with soft eyes. "Aislinn."

"Hello," I say in almost a whisper, realising his name still evades me.

We study each other silently for a moment, unsure how to act in this encounter. The sight of him here last time filled me with terror, and I run away. But now, all I feel is a strong desire to help him. I take a deep breath and step towards him as he glides through the air, meeting me halfway. It's time to find out what needs to be done.

He leads me towards a stack of old trunks in the attic's corner. Pointing, he urges me to open them. I carefully unfasten the clasp and lift the lid to reveal a bundle of old photographs, letters, and newspapers. His energy seems focused on them, as if they hold significance.

I sift through the contents, unfolding brittle newspapers, yellowed letters, and flipping through faded photographs. The stories come alive in my mind as I read through them, one by one. He watches attentively as I uncover more about his past life.

Finally, I find a eulogy. His name was, is, Henry, and he lived here with his wife, Emily, in the late 1800s. Having received the land as a wedding gift, the wealthy family moved to Lakeview Hollow from the city. Hoping to create a large family, Henry constructed this mansion for his wife, but tragedy struck when she died while giving birth to their only child prematurely.

My heart aches as I read of Henry's tragic loss. I sense his heavy grief as he stands by my side. I extend my hand to offer comfort, but it simply passes through him.

"You lost your wife and child," I whisper sympathetically.

He nods, his solemn gaze never leaving the article in my hands. He's clear that he's trapped here, unable to move forward from the pain and emptiness of losing his family. But why is he showing me all of this? I wonder, looking up at him.

He turns, gesturing for me to follow. We approach a window on the second floor. He waves his hand over it and the dusty glass clears, revealing a view of the lake. Henry points to a spot by the water's edge where an old bench sits. I think I understand what he wants; to take him to that spot by the lake. The place he shared memories with his wife and unborn child.

With a determined nod, I promise to help him find peace and closure. And I sincerely hope that I can.

Together, we make our way out of the attic and through the house towards the back door. I'm careful to avoid contractors at all costs, not wanting to draw attention to either myself or Henry.

Following Henry's lead, we venture outside into the crisp air and head towards the lake, finally reaching the bench.

I watch as he takes a seat on the bench and closes his eyes, face turning to the heavens.

I glance around, making sure no one is watching, before walking over to the bench. As I sit beside him, emotions overwhelm me. Are these the same feelings he's experiencing? Desperation, longing, love, and yearning, crush me, reminding me of how I felt when my parents split, and dad left. I longed for him to return, to hold me in his arms like he used to as a child.

But this is different. This is Henry's pain; his desire to be with his wife and child. I have no idea what to do or even if there is anything that can be done. Letting out a heavy sigh, I close my eyes, taking in the sweet fragrance of the roses. Once again, the cool breeze from the lake gives me goosebumps.

Taking a few deep breaths, I feel someone hold my hand. At first, I think it's Henry, but then I realise he's on my left and the hand holding mine is on my right. A sense of dread washes over me, and I force my eyes open, though I stay glued to my seat. Slowly, I turn, searching for the cause. My mind races as I glance around until I spot a woman with a stroller sitting beside me. It only takes a moment for everything to make sense. Is this Emily? And her unborn child in the stroller? It's impossible. Maybe I hit my head in the attic, and this is all just a hallucination.

She turns to me calmly as our eyes meet. "Please, Aislinn," she breathes. It's the same voice that whispered from the mist at our old house. Without hesitation, I look back at Henry, but he's motionless, completely oblivious to both Emily and the stroller.

I whisper Henry's name to get his attention, being careful not to alert anyone in the house. He glances over at me nonchalantly. I nod towards Emily, who's standing beside me now. He seems confused though, and so I turn back to her. She's still there, gazing directly at me between the two of them.

Henry doesn't see her. But she's right here beside me. I see her clear as day.

Emily curls her lip into a slight smile before her image dissipates, along with the stroller.

Today was supposed to be the day I help Henry find closure, but I'm a mess. Torn between confusion and disappointment, my search for answers only brought me more questions. There is only one thing I know for sure right now, and that is, I need help to navigate the way from here.