allowing anyone to dream in peace.
― Gaston Bachelard
Gail Simpson
I call myself a house whisperer but that catchy term doesn’t do justice to what I do or the needs of the clients I serve.
Houses are not just architectural structures—they are homes.
These lived spaces we inhabit are intimately connected with who we are and our well being. As the old saying goes—there’s more in the garden than the gardener knows.
And there’s often more in a house than the homeowner knows.
Houses help civilize us and are part of the shelter of society that cocoons and keeps us safe from storms both natural and human.
But oftentimes people just see real estate transactions and house purchases mainly as a financial transaction without realizing how intimate their relationship with their house can be, especially if it has a long history.
That’s why I specialize in researching the life of the house that predates the occupant and yet directly impacts them in ways sometimes subtle but often profoundly.
And yes, I use my intuitive gifts to reveal the imprints of the past that go far beyond a stain on the floor or an unpleasant room where no one wants to sleep.
Homeowners may not be able to get hold of other times, but other times can definitely impress themselves upon those who occupy their haunts.
So, I was eager to visit the house Gail Simpson, my teaching colleague, suggested, but to tell the truth, I had no desire to simply please a well-off client who simply wanted a coffee table book about the houses's history to impress her friends.
Fact was, I was more intrigued with the possibility of pleasing Gail and developing a relationship with her than placating her friend but I was open to the possibility of being surprised.
I hadn’t yet met the house owner or seen inside the house but I was allowing myself to be drawn by the stronger pull of what I truly loved.
But was it the lady, or the house? For the time being, the jury was out on that one.
Come Saturday morning, Greg and I were sipping takeout coffee parked outside the house waiting for Gail to show.
“My God,” Greg moaned, eyeing the house, “it looks like something out of *The Addams Family *or The Munsters. No doubt this house is haunted.”
“You can’t go by looks, my friend,” I chuckled, “ practically every second empire house is gabled, turreted or has dormers—don’t be distracted by the ginger bread.”
“Wow!” He suddenly exclaims, drawing in a sharp breath. “Take your own advice, Guy, if this is the girl we’re supposed to meet.”
I look up to see Gail crossing the street. She looked drop-dead gorgeous in her black sweater that contrasted with and enhanced the bright beauty of her red hair.
“I see now why you took this assignment,” he added, hastily wiping the coffee from his mouth with a paper napkin.
On the plus side, I had the answer to the riddle what was the stronger draw— the lady or the house? In this instance, the house lost.
Gail spotted me and gave me a sunny smile that seemed to light up the entire street.
“You could save on electric lighting with that girl in your house,” Greg deadpanned.
I had to agree. Everything faded to a dark gothic compared to the girl walking toward us.
I was fascinated. The only question that remained to be answered was whether I'd be more interested in exploring the house and its mysteries or getting to know Gail outside of work.
Whatever the outcome of this assignment, I couldn't lose— I'd end up being haunted but was willing to submit.