August: A Ghost Story

"I don't need the roster..." She stood resolutely, studying me. "Can I get to the bathroom?"

She stepped aside and I passed through, shutting the door.

She appeared in the mirror beside my own reflection, scaring the shit out of me.

"Sorry, it's just. You have such interesting dreams and fantasies. George told me about the one you had in the bath the other day, about Francis on his motorbike..."

I scowled at her in the mirror. She faded away only to appear beside me at the sink. "You just can't respect boundaries can you?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to be an imposition but I haven't had a real girlfriend to talk to since 1926 when my dear friend Gertrude died. You must understand, I'm only trying to... well, get to know you better. After all if you're going to be living here, sharing the house with us, it's only natural to want to get acquainted."

I reached over to begin running water in the tub but then thought better of it. I snatched up the bar of soap and went back into the bedroom, ignoring her as she hovered. I was going to escape her, for some reason I knew that she wouldn't follow me out of the house.

Chapter Thirty-Two:

After pulling on shorts and a bikini top, which I covered with one of Frank's old concert T-shirts, knotted at one side, I stepped out onto the wide front porch shutting the door behind me. I turned to lock up out of habit but then caught myself and sighed. I ditched the keys in the little beach bag I carried and went down the steps to walk barefoot across to the path at the edge of the driveway.

I followed the shaded path at the edge of the house's green manicured yard down until I found the small stream Emma had told me about. It had been dammed up so that water accumulated in a nice little swimming hole before flooding over a spillway and on down a slight incline.

Once I came to the little stream I let the bag drop and I pulled the T-shirt up over my head. I looked around and, shrugging, untied my bikini top before kicking off the shorts. From the beach bag I took a towel, which I laid across the grass before I walked over and let a toe dip into the water. It was cool and clear and without a second's hesitation I took two giant steps back and then ran forward and jumped, curling into a cannonball before hitting the water with a loud, wet splash.

It was refreshing, feeling the cool current around me. I paddled around for a few minutes before climbing up on the little dam and using it to pull myself out and onto the bank. I went and lay on my back on the towel, very much aware of how interesting it was to be 36 years old and skinny-dipping for the first time in my life.

From my beach bag I took a small bottle of SPF 50 and within five minutes I was properly covered and enjoying the hot golden rays of the sun pouring down through the clearing in the oaks onto my bare skin.

It was ten minutes before I turned and let the sun have a go at my back. Breezes blew through the trees, the tall prairie grass rustled in it softly, cicadas chirped, a few birds off in the meadow fluttered and chirped and then I heard it -- a small snap, like someone stepping on a twig.

I pushed myself up on my forearms to look at the mouth of the path. It was deserted, but I wasn't reassured.

"Hello?" I called, reaching for Frank's T-shirt to cover myself. I didn't know why but I had the distinct feeling I was being watched. It was a feeling I thought I had gotten used to in the house, but this was different. Whatever eyes were watching me, I knew they were human. I knew they were alive. I knew what they were after. I felt a sudden chill as the breeze picked up.

For a few minutes I just sat like that, covered, waiting for something -- another noise or a flash of movement in the tall grass. Nothing happened and I finally got dressed and walked up the path slowly toward the house.

When I reached the driveway it was empty, save for my own little Mustang. I walked over to the open barn door and found everything in its place, nothing amiss. I crossed the gravel driveway, the little pebbles hurting the bottoms of my feet as I hotfooted my way to the front steps.

I paused as my foot creaked on the bottom step and then I shuddered as I saw the front door was ajar. I almost turned and ran but George's voice stopped me.

"He's gone," he said.

He was sitting in one of the old wooden rockers on the front porch. It was odd to see him in the broad daylight and outside. He seemed to have less substance, but it was obvious by the way the chair rocked and the sound of his weight shifting over the slats of the porch that he was all there though not entirely visible.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"Stranger," George said, "Big fellow, all marked up like some of them now days." He stood and walked to the open door of the house. "He didn't take anything, just tried the door."

Chapter Thirty-Three:

I thought about trying Frank on my cell phone when I realized A) I didn't have his number and B) I still didn't have a signal out in the boondocks of Bumfuck, Nowhere. I ran inside and pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before running back down the stairs and out the door, locking it behind me before running out to the barn where my Mustang waited.

The drive into town was made in high anxiety, my eyes cast toward the rear view thinking that someone might be following me. I had no idea who it could have been at the house. Questioning George had been fruitless, he'd simply shrugged as if the whole affair was unimportant.

Well of course it's unimportant to him, Lily. He's dead. Nobody can sneak in and kill him in the middle of the night.

I pulled into the parking lot of the school and parked right next to Frank's Harley. I walked up to the main door only to find it locked. I cursed under my breath and then began walking around the side of the building. I saw the beat up old Chevy parked by a propped open door and ran to it just as it opened wide and Bruno stepped out, wiping his forehead with a soiled handkerchief.

"Well, hello." He smiled. "You trying to get a jump start on next week, Missy?"

"Hi, um, I... Uh."

Frank appeared in the door behind Bruno, he was shirtless and his torso was beaded with sweat. He too was wiping his brow only, being without a handkerchief, he was using the back of his forearm.

"Hi," he said.

"Uh, hello. Um, I needed to talk with someone about... about... um," I couldn't think of anything. "Frank, someone was at the house."

Frank looked at Bruno and then sighed. "Who? When?"

"I don't know. I didn't see them. Someone else did."

Frank nodded. He turned to Bruno. "Um, Bruno, we're mostly done in there anyway, right?"

Bruno was all smiles. "Yes, sir. And might I say I thought you two would make a cute couple. So, um, how long has this been going on?"

"It's a long story, Bruno."

I patted Bruno's shoulder. "We'll tell you sometime later, okay. Frank?"

Frank nodded, grabbing his white T-shirt and following me around the building. He turned at the last minute. "Bruno, don't tell anybody..."

"Who would I tell?"

We rounded the corner and I turned. "First of all..." I leaned in and pulled his head down so that I could kiss him square on the lips. "Okay, now that I got that out of the way, what are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"Somebody tried to break into the house."

"So, we'll lock the door."

"But, he, I got the feeling he also saw me."

"Saw you?"

"Frank, I went swimming in the little swimming hole and, well, I got the feeling someone was watching from the tall grass."

"You went skinny-dipping?"

"Yes."

Frank smiled, "Well, I picked a fine day to come and put in community service. So, you felt watched and then one of them..."

"George."

"He said he saw someone?"

"Yes, a stranger. Said he tried the door and found it unlocked then he just went away."

"Anything else about him?"

"Just that he was big and 'marked,' whatever that means."

Frank shrugged. "A scar or something? Maybe a tattoo? Is anything missing?"

"No. George said the stranger didn't take anything -- that he just checked the door and then left."

"But not until after watching you swimming..." Frank nodded. "Strange. Okay, I'll call the sheriff, make a report."

"No."

"No?"

"The sheriff will tell his wife and his wife will tell the whole town and we'll be screwed."

"You'll be screwed. I'll be fine. They already don't like me. In fact, I don't see why you're so hell-bent on keeping your reputation. What do you care if they like or don't like you?"

"I just don't want any complications."

"Heh," the laugh was small and peevish. "This from a woman who lives with ghosts and is about to teach Spanish in the same school as her ex-boyfriend with whom she has had sex almost constantly since she arrived in town."

"Shut up."

He smiled, "Lily, relax. Okay? I'll tell Dick to keep it on the down low and we can have a security lock put on the front door."

"What about the back door?"

"And the back door, and the cellar door, and the windows on the terrace. I'll put them in myself, okay? Stop worrying."

"It was just so..."

"I know, I know." He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Want to shake it off?"

"Shaken," I put my arms around him, just holding him made me feel safer. "You were helping Bruno?"

"Yeah, he and I go way back."

"Oh, yeah. He said he and your dad used to swap beers." I leaned in closer. "Bruno tried to hook us up on a date yesterday, but I was mad at you so I wouldn't let him."

"A date? I wonder what he had in mind? Maybe I'd take you up to the Pit Barbeque in Emporia?"

"Or perhaps they have an Olive Garden," I wiggled my eyebrows.

He laughed. "No, that's down in Wichita. And that's only for high-class dames."

"Har har."

He let his hand move down my back to rest at the top of my butt. "Speaking of mad at me, are you still?"

"No."

"Good. You understand why I didn't say anything?"

"You wanted to make sure I was as crazy as you are before admitting to the same hallucinations?"

"Exactly."

"So we're both nuts. We're both seeing things. What else do we have in common?"

"We both like the idea of going into the school and doing it on the catwalk in the auditorium?"

"Perv," I smirked. "Anyway because I'm in town I might as well buy a television set. I've noticed you don't have one in the house."

He shook his head. "Won't work. I bought one the day after I moved in, ended up returning it." He leaned in to whisper. "Something to do with them. Cell phones don't work either. That's why I still have the landline."

I nodded and then he sighed. "So that's a 'no' to the auditorium idea?"

"I didn't say that." I grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the main doors. He whipped out a set of keys and together we scurried down the hall.

Chapter Thirty-Four:

I left the auditorium hungry and decided, because I was in town, to see what fare could be found on the main strip. It was a short walk, so I left my car at the school and meandered down Ashe Street, taking in the nice little old-style homes until I came to Main. The traffic was heavier around noon but not by much. A single police car parked by the hardware store, a few pickups and station wagons, one or two sedans most likely driven by people who'd missed their chance at food in Emporia or Wichita.

I walked up along one side of Main and then down along the other to discover, to my amusement and partial horror, that there were two choices; The Bradbury Bar & Grill -- an original name if ever I heard one -- or the combination café and bakery from which Frank had purchased yesterday's croissants. Sucking my bottom lip I turned toward the bar and grill.

Once inside, however, I realized that the "grill" part was just something painted on the sign to make the place respectable. At the bar were a few tired looking drunks and behind the bar a large man with a shaved head and a tattoo growing out of his white-collared shirt.

He looked up and his expression changed to one of surprise no doubt at having anybody so feminine or sober enter his bar at this time of day. I waved, and apologized before turning and walking back out into the street. I crossed the main drag and entered the café, keeping my head down as I took a booth at the back.

In a moment a little Asian woman came over, a menu held out to me, a smile on her face.

"You're Lily," she said, her accent was noticeable but her English was good.

"Hi," I said, a little unsure.

"I'm Dae Peters." She sat down passing the menu across to me. "I'm Gene's wife," she smiled putting a finger to the side of her nose. "Don't worry, I don't tell anybody."

I nodded, "Um, okay?"

"You want some lunch to take home?"

"Oh, no. I'm just eating in, thanks."

"Okay, try the Salad Nicoise. You want a drink?"

I nodded, "Coke will be fine."

"Okay," she walked off toward the kitchen and I looked up to see the diner was filled with lots of unfamiliar faces, all of them staring at me. I took up the menu and hid behind it more than read it until Mrs. Peters came back and sat across from me, setting a tall plastic cup of Coke in front of me with a straw. "Make any decisions?"

"Um," who could with all those people staring? "You pick. I'm not sure."

I looked over her shoulder at the people quietly sipping coffee and doing their best not to whisper or stare too obviously.

Dae looked over her shoulder at the people and turned back. "Don't mind them, they're that way with all new people. You give it a few weeks you'll fit in fine."

"I'm sure. Say, can you direct me to the pharmacy by chance?"

Dae nodded, "You go out and left, down three doors. You sick or something?"

"No," I smiled, "Just low on..." I stopped. "I take medication."

"You a crazy person?"

I shook my head. "Uh, no, it's... it's personal."

She nodded, suddenly understanding. "Okay, well I get you Salad Nicoise. Welcome to Bradbury!"

I nodded. One thing was sure, I'd only be stopping in town for work and to pick up my birth control.

THE PAST

Chapter Thirty-Five:

I sat, hunched forward, my eyes growing heavy as I read, for the fourth time, my homework assignment. I was in the library, sitting at one of ten new Macintoshes. It was late, finals week was looming less than a month on the horizon. As I reached the end of the Word document, I slumped forward, letting my head fall against the tiny bit of desktop to the left of the keyboard. I had been up all night proofing the paper, making sure I hadn't misused a single accent mark or flubbed a conjugation. I exhaled and, using the mouse, moved the curser up to click the "print" icon.

I heard the whirring and sputter of the printer at the end of the row of computers and, after saving my paper to a floppy disk, I logged out and moved down to take the sheets of paper from the tray.

I grabbed a complimentary paper clip from a jar by the printer and, tossing my bookbag over my shoulder, began walking toward the door.

It was at this moment that I felt the jarring humming on my belt. I sighed, knowing that there was only one person in the world who had my beeper number and would be calling it before noon on a weekend.

I veered away from the doors leading out of the library and headed for the payphone. I always made sure I carried at least a spare couple of dollars in quarters for just such emergency calls.

I dialed long distance and typed in the area code and number, waiting patiently as the phone rang only once before being answered.

"Lily?"

"What is it, Mother?"

"Nothing, just calling to see how you are. You haven't been keeping up these last few months."

I sighed. "Well, it is college, Mom. I'm busy with classes."

"I know that, dear. But you know how your father and I worry about you."

"I know how you worry. Dad trusts me more than you do."

"However could you say something like that? You know I trust you. I just worry. Speaking of which, I called the house first and they said that you hadn't been in all night."

I laughed. "I've been in the library, Mom. I've got a paper due tomorrow and I was..."

"They said your boyfriend picked you up last night and that you hadn't checked back in."

I bit my lip. I'd been avoiding telling mom about Frank. I'd gone through most of high school without having any serious boyfriends and I wasn't quite sure how mom would take the news. "Well," I said. "Um, I did go out to dinner with a guy and then he dropped me off at the library."

It was mostly true. We had eaten dinner and he had dropped me off at the library around midnight, after we'd spent a few hours at his place.

"So this guy..." she made it sound like I'd been conspiring against her. "How long have you and he been... seeing each other?"

"A few weeks."

"And his name?"

"Frank."

"How old is Frank?"

"Mom."

"I just don't want you to be taken advantage of dear, you're still very young even though I know you don't think it. I just want to make sure you're being mindful of certain things."

"Is this the sex talk?"

"Lillian, I'm your mother, I'm supposed to care. Please don't hate me for doing so."

"I don't hate you, Mom. I'm just..." I sighed. "Look, I have a boyfriend and his name is Frank. I didn't want to tell you about him because, well... I wasn't quite sure he was going to stick around long enough to be worth mentioning."

"What does that mean?"

I shrugged and sighed into the receiver. "I don't know. I'm just taking it one day at a time. He's a bit odd but fun and he's not like most boys I've met here. He's... challenging." I didn't know why, but suddenly it struck me as very surreal to be discussing Frank with my mother. "He takes me to places I wouldn't normally go and I'm listening to new music. He's a writer, so I'm meeting lots of other writers. He's just... interesting."

"Do you love him?"

"I..." The question was too odd and it had come to me as if from nowhere. "No. I mean, I don't know. He's just... He's a friend who's a guy. We've only been..."

"You're not sleeping with him are you?"

That did it. "Okay, Mom. I'm going to hang up now. Um, I'll call you next week."

The receiver was in the cradle before I knew what had happened. I looked at its dull, black plastic and the shiny stainless steel casing of the call box and then I sighed, checking the time on my wristwatch. I left the library and took the steps down to the knoll and I crossed it to the curb where Frank sat on his bike. He was still in the T-shirt he'd worn to bed the night before, his legs clad in pajama pants, his hair a tangle and his eyes sleepy.

"Good morning," he said, yawning.

"You've been sleeping and I hate you for it."

He nodded and I took the offered helmet as I climbed on the back of the bike. I felt the buzzing on my belt and I reached around and shut off the beeper.

"You said your mother doesn't like it when you turn it off," he said, eyeing me over one shoulder.

"I told her about you," I said.

"And?"

I shook my head. "Just take me someplace where I can go to sleep."

"Your place or mine?" He said turning the key in the ignition and firing the bike's engine to life.

I finished adjusting the chin strap on the helmet and put my arms around his middle, molding my body to his, letting my cheek rest against his shoulder. "Yours," I said. "The faster the better, or else I'm going to pass out and fall off."

He released the brake and fed the bike some gas and together we shot off down the campus boulevard, turning left at the first intersection, headed for his apartment.

THE PRESENT

Chapter Thirty-Six:

"Buenos dias."

They just stared at me. I didn't give an inch. Walking up to the front row of students, looking at them politely and with my brightest grin, I said the greeting in Spanish, adding a bit more volume as well as a few more words.