The White Lady of Box Grove, a true ghost story

Sunday, December 15, 1975

"Mommy?"

Adam's voice came in a tight whisper, an instant response to the squeak of floorboards as I climbed the stairs. It was our second night in the old rented farmhouse and my not-quite-three-year-old son was restless in unfamiliar surroundings.

"Coming," I whispered back, hoping we wouldn't rouse his baby brother.

Adam looked up, eyes full of worry, as I bent to tuck in his covers. "Sing me a song?"

"Sure. Just one, though. It's my bedtime, too." I settled on the edge of his bed and gave him a quiet rendition of his favourite, You Are My Sunshine.  "Okay, now?"

"I guess." He didn't sound too sure about the state of his okay-ness, so I sat for a moment longer, my hand resting gently on his arm.

"Where'd that lady go?"

"What lady, hon?" This was a puzzler. We hadn't seen a soul all day. Not since late the night before, when the friends recruited to help with our move from Toronto dropped off the last boxes.

"The white lady." Adam pointed across the room. "She was there."

A chill spidered its way up my spine as I turned to follow his sleepy gaze. In the corner of the room, three-month-old Matthew nestled peacefully in his crib, sound asleep.  No lady. I let go of the breath I'd been holding and turned back to Adam. "When was this, sweetie?"

"I woke up," he said, sounding peevish now. "She was looking at Matty again. I said hi and she did this," Adam lifted one finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "Then I heard you. And then I looked and she was gone. Is she your friend?"

I stroked his hair, hoping he wouldn't notice the trembling of my hand. "I think you must've been dreaming." I certainly hoped he'd been dreaming. Thoughts of other, more ghostly, explanations for a strange lady in white seemed to swarm and scuttle through my mind.

"No," said Adam. "I told you. I woke up. She came last night, too, but you were asleep."

Gooseflesh prickled up my arms. Across the room, baby Matthew grumbled and stretched. "Well," I said, trying to sound a lot braver than I felt, "she's not here now."

"Did she go home?" he wondered, scanning the room once more.

"Home to bed," I whispered. And hoped with every fibre of my being it was the truth.

"Good," he said. "She was tired." And with that astounding statement, Adam's eyes drifted shut.

I didn't sleep at all that night. After relating the whole, spooky story to my husband, I'd insisted the two of us make a top-to-bottom search of the house. Our dog trailed along from room to room, looking baffled and sleepy but only raising her hackles once, when a mouse peeked out from beneath the fridge. No unseen, unearthly presence. No odd feelings. No lady in white.

Adam never mentioned the lady again. Whenever his Dad or I tried to bring the subject up, he acted as if he'd forgotten all about it. Winter turned to spring and we settled into life in the sleepy Ontario hamlet of Box Grove, enjoying our drafty but definitely not haunted country home.

Months later, my husband paid a visit to a neighbouring farm in search of nesting straw for our chickens. He returned looking a bit unsettled. After some coaxing, he related this conversation with the old farmer.

"Everything okay over at your place, then? Nothing… strange?"

Strange? At first, hubby thought the farmer meant the strange kind of science involved in hen husbandry or septic tank maintenance. But, no.

"They say it's haunted, that place of yours. Last folks didn't stay long. But now you're there, fixing things up… well, maybe things have changed. Maybe the White Lady likes you."

Cue goosebumps.

I like to think the White Lady did like us. Hadn't Adam said his lady was tired? Perhaps knowing the old homestead was loved and cared for once again gave her peace. Perhaps, with us, the White Lady of Box Grove finally found her rest.

True story. Happy Halloween!

Permalink: The White Lady of Box Grove

Update: This story was published in the 2015 Halloween edition of the Markham Economist & Sun newspaper.

stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

The Write Spot: Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to chapter four of The Write Spot, a bi-weekly author series spotlighting the many and varied places where writers write. 

This week, it's my pleasure to welcome Canadian author Joanne Guidoccio. In high school, Joanne dabbled in poetry, but it would be over three decades before she entertained the idea of writing as a career. She listened to her practical Italian side and earned degrees in mathematics and education. She experienced many fulfilling moments as she watched her students develop an appreciation (and sometimes, love) of mathematics. Later, she obtained a post-graduate diploma as a career development practitioner and put that skill set to use in the co-operative education classroom. She welcomed this opportunity to help her students experience personal growth and acquire career direction through their placements.

In 2008, she took advantage of early retirement and decided to launch a second career that would tap into her creative side and utilize her well-honed organizational skills. Slowly, a writing practice emerged. Her articles and book reviews were published in newspapers, magazines, and online. When she tried her hand at fiction, she made reinvention a recurring theme in her novels and short stories. A member of Crime Writers of Canada, Sisters in Crime, and Romance Writers of America, Joanne writes paranormal romance, cozy mysteries, and inspirational literature from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.

Joanne Guidoccio's Write Spot

Love the butterflies, Joanne! Now that you've shared your photo, tell us what makes it the "Write Spot" for you.

When I first retired, I assumed I would be writing in my den. Everything was in place: desk, new computer, book shelves crammed with novels and craft guides, and inspiring Monet prints on the wall. But after several frustrating attempts, I realized the den was too small. While the room could easily be a second bedroom, it was not spacious enough for my creativity to flourish. So, I relocated to a corner of the living/dining area of my condo. With over 900 square feet of space and easy access to my kitchen and balcony, I no longer feel constrained.

Other than your computer or laptop, what’s the one thing you couldn't be without in your "Write Spot"?

My swivel chair. For the most part, I am very focused on my writing, but I do need an occasional distraction. When I turn in my swivel chair, I am greeted by a beautiful view of majestic trees.

What are you working on now?

I’m alternating between Book 2 of the Gilda Greco Mystery Series and Book 3 of the Mediterranean Trilogy. I’m also getting ready to promote The Coming of Arabella (Book 2 of the trilogy).

Where can readers find out more about you and your books?

Readers can visit me at joanneguidoccio.com and connect at the following social media sites:

Twitter:  twitter.com/joanneguidoccio

Facebook: facebook.com/authorjoanneguidoccio

LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/joanneguidoccio

Pinterest:  pinterest.com/jguidoccio

Goodreads: goodreads.com/Joanne_Guidoccio

Joanne's new book, The Coming of Arabella, is available for pre-order now and will be released on September 2nd. To celebrate, she's giving away 5 eBook copies of The Coming of Arabella. 

Click here to enter Joanne's Rafflecopter giveaway.

On the day of her engagement party, an ex-mermaid’s life is disrupted by the unexpected arrival of another mermaid—a sister she has never known. Under normal circumstances, Barbara Davies would be overjoyed, but her special day is already wrought with tension. While Barbara is not the first mermaid from the Mediterranean kingdom to settle in small town Ontario, she has yet to reveal her origins to her fiancé. So when Arabella, the gorgeous sister whose disturbing black eyes banished her to the island of Crete, saunters into her life, clutching the arm of Barbara’s discarded lover, a powder keg of emotion is released.

Relationships falter and careers stall as envy stirs in the hearts of the sisters. On the verge of meltdown after her fiancé leaves Canada for a teaching job in Vermont, Barbara flees to Arizona hoping for a reprieve. There, she finds solace at a retreat for ex-mermaids and a second chance at love with a charismatic preacher. As she contemplates a new life in the desert paradise of Sedona, shocking secrets emerge and tragedy strikes. A stronger and wiser Barbara rises up to face these new challenges and embrace the best parts of her mermaid heritage.

Purchase links:

Amazon (US) | Amazon (Canada)| Amazon (UK) | Amazon (Aus) 

About The Write Spot:

I've always been fascinated by what goes on behind the scenes. Whether it's backstage photos from my favourite play, a peek into the kitchen where a chef is working her culinary magic, or simply a glimpse through an uncurtained window into a stranger's private world, there's an undeniable thrill of discovery, a sense of secrets shared. It's no surprise, then, that I'm immensely curious about where other writers do their work. I've blogged about it before in this post about my own 'write spot' and so enjoyed the comments, I was inspired to launch a regular feature here at Stillpoint. Watch for The Write Spot every other Wednesday and join me as I discover the many and varied places where writers write.

Stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington.