August: A Ghost Story

"Buenos dias! Estamos en Espanol uno. Me llamo, Senora Hawkes. Como estias?"

They were like a room of confused looking statues.

"Okay, how about we try it your way? Good morning, class."

"Good morning," they all said in unison.

"We are in Spanish one. My name is Ms. Hawkes. How are you all today?

The general consensus was a groan of misery. The first day of classes was wearing them all down. It was getting on to the end of the last hour of the day and, I had to admit, I was pretty bummed out too. As I proceeded with the first lesson for the sixth time that day and handed out the last batch of books, I kept sneaking glances at the clock, doing my best all the while to sound just as happy and excited as could be.

"Now, this is an entry level course, so many of you in this class are just beginners. However, you will be expected to be having full conversations in Spanish by the end of the semester. As this is the first day of class, I am being nice to all of you, speaking in English so that you will know important dates and times..."

I'd rounded the end of the back row and was proceeding toward the front of the class when I felt the hand connect with my backside with a loud smack, cutting me off in mid-sentence and causing me to let loose an audible squeak of surprise at which the class erupted in a great burst of laughter which quickly died as I turned, and looked with fiery eyes into the angular face of the perpetrator.

He was gaunt and kind of squirrelly with hair that was cropped very close to his head, and a kind of lopsided dopey grin that would have been a bit goofy if it weren't for the neat rows of almost sharp teeth that peeked out of it. I put my hands on my hips and pursed my lips to one side. "Always one," I said.

He nodded. "So now I go to the principal's office and get sent to detention for the last hour, right?"

Alright, so he was letting me know that he was a veteran trouble maker. I smiled slyly. "Not at all, you're coming to the front of the class."

A bit of his adolescence showed for a second, but he recovered and nodded. "Whatever you say, hot cheeks." He stood and I let him pass, following him up the row until he reached the blackboard and turned to face the class.

I took a seat at my desk. "Perhaps you'll start by telling us all your name?"

He smirked. "They all know my name." He waved at a few of them and got a few giggles. He looked over at me, signifying it was my move.

I glanced down at the seating chart, he'd been in the middle row, all the way at the back. I found his name and tried not to be shocked to discover the named was "McCormick, J.R."

"Jacob McCormick." I took off my glasses and pushed away from my desk. "I've been warned about you."

He smiled. "Nice to know I'm talked about. Tell me, who referred me?"

The class giggled and he looked at them, smirking. Yes, this was all just good fun. But I was still in control. "Jake, you realize what you just did can be classified as sexual assault? I could have you brought up on charges. You could be expelled."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's the idea."

I smirked. "Well, as I have a sense of humor, and you're not the first guy to smack my ass, I'll let it slide today. But you're going to read something for me."

"Read?" His grin dissipated.

"Yes," I reached into my bag and took out a novel in Spanish. "You'll be reading three chapters out loud to the class from Isabel Allende's Portrait in Sepia." I took out a ruler and walked to the front row, smiling at the one familiar face I'd seen all day. "And every time you make a mistake, Ms. Wilson will have my permission to smack you with this ruler."

The room was divided, half of them laughing while the rest sat quietly with their mouths agape. Maggie was one of the ones laughing as she stood and took the ruler and walked over to stand beside Jake.

Jake looked at me challengingly. "You can't do this..."

"Open the book." I sat in Maggie's seat and crossed my legs, folding my hands on top of the desk. "Capitulo uno, por favor. And if you so much as mispronounce a word I'll raise my hand and Maggie, you let him have it."

Maggie nodded and turned to face Jake who was still holding the book quizzically. After failing to open it for a few seconds Maggie, without prodding, hauled off and swatted him firmly on his backside. He made a surprised squeak, almost a perfect impersonation of mine and then opened the book as Maggie raised the ruler for a second go.

By the end of the class, the count was 34 mistakes and the class was nearly rolling in the aisles with bottled up laughter. The bell rang and, without being dismissed, they all rushed out in a flood of post-pubescent humanity. Jake, limping and scowling at me as he ditched the book on my desk on his way out the door.

"Don't ever disrespect me like that again, Mr. McCormick."

He frowned and mumbled something that might have been either an obscenity or an apology, I didn't really care, for at that moment Frank came strolling through the door from the hallway. "Hey, Lil -- I mean, Ms. Hawkes." He nodded to the young, wounded troublemaker. "Jake."

"Frank." He limped out the door slowly and disappeared around the corner.

Frank's eyebrow hitched. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." I smiled. "It was Maggie."

His eyes narrowed. "Suddenly I'm realizing just how sick and sadistic you are and how putting you in the position of power over teenagers in a high school setting is quite unwise of our school board."

"I would say the same about you, Mr. Collins."

There was a sudden earsplitting whine from outside the school building. I stood and rushed over to look out the window, in time to see a white puff of smoke erupting in the parking lot. A crowd was gathered around and when they parted a blur of yellow and green sped out of the throng, through the parking lot and away down Ashe Street toward the main drag. One of the people in the throng was a small, blonde girl holding her bookbag against her stomach looking very heartbroken.

"I think he's mad at her."

I turned and was about to say something more when Inga and the fat woman, whose name I suddenly couldn't remember, breezed through the door, their laughter and conversation suddenly caught short by their perception of Frank's presence. Frank didn't miss a beat.

"Anyway, I'm just saying that if you're going to park next to me, you have a care with your car doors, okay?"

I nodded, setting my brow low. "Jeez, okay, sorry. It's just a little scratch it'll probably buff out. I'll pay for it if you want."

He held up his hand and then turned and scowled at the two women in the doorway. "Good God, I'll be glad when I can get the hell out of here!" He pushed past them and the fat woman shouted after him.

"You could try and be friendly to the new face in town, you know? Not go and take out your aggression on her." She shook her head. "I swear, that man never wakes up on the right side of the bed. And as for getting out of here, I don't understand what's keeping him now that that wife of his has lighted off for the territories."

Inga, perpetually smiling, shrugged. "Well, your first, day. How did it go?"

I shrugged, "Glad it's over," I sighed. "What's up, girls?"

"Well, it's Monday," Inga smiled. "Barbara and I usually go down to the Church of the Blessed Savior and do bingo after school. We thought you might join us. It's a nice place to meet the congregation."

"Congregation?" I had been putting the ruler away and stuffing the copy of Portrait in Sepia back into my bookbag.

I zipped up the bag slowly letting my gaze drift up to them. They weren't joking.

"Yes, we were inviting you to come along," Inga prodded, jovially.

Barbara, ever the battle-ax, let her eyebrows raise a bit. "You have found the Lord, haven't you, Lily, dear?"

I cocked my head. "Oh, yes, I found the dark Lord many years ago. He throws great mixers." I smirked, rolling my eyes at the joke. The two seemed to recede a little, Inga's smile withering on the vine. Apparently, they hadn't developed a sense of humor about religion in Bradbury yet. "It's a joke, girls. I'm not really a devil worshiper. I don't care what my ex-husband may have said, it's all a vicious lie."

The two exchanged glances, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, that's... I mean, we know you're joking, don't we, Barb?"

"You're divorced?" Barbara's expression was one I don't think I'd ever seen before.

I shrugged. "Just divorced, actually, about a week ago." I took in their growing disquiet. "Sometimes marriages just don't work. It's not a big deal."

Inga did her best to recover her smile. "Y-yes, I'm sure you're both fine, you and your husband, I-I mean, ex-husband, of course. So, um, are you joining us for bingo, or...?"

I shook my head, smiling as politely as I could despite the fact that Barbara was still glaring at me as if I were a female Mork of Ork. "I'm sorry, girls. I have to get home. I, uh, have a cat that needs feeding."

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

The air outside of the school was thick and hot. I immediately shed my jacket and donned my sunglasses. Taking a rubber band out of my little briefcase I put my hair up in a ponytail so that it was off my neck where a breeze could get to it should a breeze arise. Still squinting against the glare of the midafternoon sun, I was shocked to see some cars were still parked in front of the school. There was a late model sedan, all black with tinted windows. It stuck out like a sore thumb in a town of mostly pickup trucks and station wagons.

I stared at it steadily for a moment, wondering who it might belong to, and then I shrugged. Perhaps some kid or other had seen something like it on MTV Cribs and decided to blow three summer's worth of savings on it. I was thinking all of this as I began walking down the main path to the faculty parking lot when the car started up and pulled away from the curb, moving casually but menacingly down the street. I don't know why I watched it go, but when it turned the corner and sped away I felt a slight shiver as if something big and slimy had been inside it, licking its chops hungrily at me as I moved.

Irrational, Lily. Los Angeles has made you paranoid.

I shook the feeling off and walked over to my Mustang, taking in the fact that it was in need of a wash, and then paused as I noticed the slip of paper tucked under the windshield wiper. I set my case down, leaned over and took the slip from under the blade. I sucked in a breath as I unfolded the note and then sighed as I recognized Frank's handwriting.

"Preliminary reports indicate that the new Spanish teacher is a babe."

I smirked, crumpling the note as I picked up my briefcase and unlocked the car.

"Lily!"

I jumped, and turned just in time to see Gene walking toward me, waving a hand. Close behind him was a rather tall, silver-haired man, who walked with an almost crane-like gait.

"Gene," I took a step forward to meet him. "You scared me."

"Sorry. Thought you were the last one to leave, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I looked to the tall man. "Who's this and why does he look important."

Gene smiled, "Ms. Lillian Hawkes, meet Reverend Wilson. He's our superintendent here in Bradbury."

I nodded and stuck out my hand, "Your daughter is in my last hour."

He took the hand cordially and shook it speaking with a practiced southern drawl. It almost sounded fake to hear him say, "A pleasure, Ms. Lillian."

I smiled, "Lily, please. I just go by Lily."

"Very well, then," he smiled, "Lily. My wife and I would love to invite you over for dinner some evening -- make sure you know that you're welcome in our little backwater I'd also like to extend to you an invitation to study with us at the First United this Wednesday evening, and of course to worship with us on Sunday."

I blinked. This town just didn't let up. "Uh, um..."

Gene came to the rescue. "Lily is Jewish, John."

The reverend looked to Gene and then nodded. "Oh, well," he smiled. "I'm sorry if I caused offense."

I played along. "Not at all. It's quite alright." I shot a glance at Gene who just nodded.

"Well, the invitation is still open," The reverend smiled, "to dinner, at least, to make you welcome."

I nodded. "Thank you. I'll, uh, have to check my calendar."

The reverend nodded. "I understand. Still settling in, eh?"

"Yes."

"Might I inquire," he opened the door to my car for me. "Where exactly are you hanging your hat? There's only one boarding house in town and people have informed me that you aren't registered there."

I smiled. "I-I'm..."

Gene's face was grave.

"I'm actually staying up in Emporia until I can find a realtor. I understand the town's only one sort of disappeared rather suddenly."

"Folks around here won't stop talking about it," the reverend smiled. "Of course anything doing with that man Collins, the town never can seem to stop talking about. Famous writer, New Yorker," here his voice dipped, "irreligious, too. Everything his life touches is a scandal around here."

"You sound like you like it that way," I said, climbing into the driver's seat.

"We small town people do like our gossip." He shut the door. "Well, remember, dinner at our house as soon as you get settled." He patted the palm of his hand against the door and walked over to an old silver Lincoln parked directly in front of the building.

I looked up at Gene who waved as the superintendent's car pulled away from the curb and out of the parking lot onto the street.

"Jewish?" I looked at him with the question.

"Believe me," he said. "It's better than no religion in this town."

I turned the key in the ignition and my engine roared to life before settling down into a gentle idle. "How do you mean?"

Gene turned and looked down at me. "I came to work here about three months before Frank did. That was all the seniority I had. Frank has more degrees, more connections with the town, more experience teaching. Hell, his grandfather helped build the damned school," he pointed at the building. "I'm the principal because I'm Jewish. And in the eyes of a bible thumping community, any religion is better than no religion at all."

I nodded. "So are you really Jewish, Gene?"

"I'm an academic," he said, mocking cagey

I smiled. "So, you converted for your wife?"

"No," he smiled. "Her maiden name is Yuan. We met in Seoul when I was in the Marines."

I nodded. "So you're not religious at all?"

He shrugged. "My grandmother was a Presbyterian, that should count right?"

I laughed, "So you think we'll get away with it?"

"You mean you pretending to be Jewish or you and Frank living together with nobody getting wise to it?"

"The latter."

"Only time will tell."

I sighed, "Oy vey," and smiled at Gene as I put the car in gear. I waved at Bruno, who was emptying a waste can at the edge of the lot before pulling out onto the little road that led to the main drag and out of town.

The black sedan was forgotten.

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

The harsh stormy weather of the previous week had completely dissipated and given way to blazing hot sunshine. The big, open sky over the rolling, prairie hills was clear and blue and empty. Driving with the windows down through the down and then along the dirt road to the long driveway, it was peaceful and calm, a far cry from the heavy congested traffic of L.A.

As I pulled the hand brake on the Mustang in front of the barn and climbed out, I couldn't help but think how nice and secluded the place was. I imagined how much more remote it must have been when it was built. Vast rolling property, miles and miles from the nearest town. I smiled, understanding the appeal of removal from the worry and bustle of the world.

I saw the barn door was open, but I felt like taking a moment alone to walk. I found a shaded path at the edge of the house's green manicured yard and I followed it down until I found the nice little swimming hole.

Despite the fact that I'd most likely been watched by some passing pervert, I remembered the cool water against my bare skin.

The air was heavy with humidity and I thought for a moment, while kicking off my heels, about diving in right then, without even bothering to remove my skirt or blouse. I smiled at the thought, and turned away, carrying my shoes in one hand and my briefcase in the other. I moseyed along the stream until I could see the back of the house through the leaves of a small orchard. The grass under my feet was prickly but I didn't mind. I began walking up the path but stopped when a small, fenced patch of ground caught my eye off in a shady oak grove.

The fence was of cast iron and painted white. There were about twenty headstones, the most recent of which belonged to Michael Francis Collins. I knelt down and cleared some of the grass away from the base. To find that he had been a beloved father and friend.

To the left of his marker were a row of others, Frank's grandparents I assumed and perhaps a good many of their siblings. Up the path at the back of the plot, under the most intense shade of the largest oak tree, the two tall thin alabaster stones stood, one beside the other, solemn and simple. I read his and then hers. The birth and death dates were different but the marriage date, May 25th, 1878, was the same and encircled on both stones with little garlands.

Behind the stones, at the foot of the oak someone had planted a few rose bushes that had been allowed to run slightly wild. I walked around and picked a blossum, taking a care with the thorns.

From the other side of the house came a sudden sputtering of an engine and then as quickly as it had sputtered to life, the noise of the engine died out with a few pitiful coughs. I fancied, even from the other side of the house, I could hear Frank cursing. I smiled and looked back at the two headstones before picking up my case and walking back through the little gate and through the orchard to the house.

I wandered inside the barn to find Frank on his knees fiddling with his bike. His white button-up shirt and tie flung almost carelessly over a sawhorse near the barn entrance as he tinkered in his undershirt.

"You'll get grease on your slacks," I said, taking the scarf from around my neck and pushing my sunshades up into my hair.

He looked up. "Didn't want to go to bingo, huh?"

I nodded. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not as you are a member of the dark army." He stood and strode over to the workbench tossing a socket wrench on the table. "Of course, the only people who're never seen in that church are people the town takes no real interest in at all. Namely yours truly and other people from the later side of the 19th century. Not that I'm a-religious."

"What are your religious beliefs, Francis?"

He scowled.

"Sorry, it's just she calls you that all the time and I felt like trying it on." I hung my scarf on the door and unbuttoned my blouse. I wore a simple yellow tank top underneath, and a sports bra. "Seriously, God, capital G, your thoughts."

"Well," he smirked, "the moment I put a definition on God, is the moment I show I will never understand God. It's kind of like giving a pretty flower a name like Lilium philadelphicum."

I looked at him quizzically.

"Tiger Lily," he smiled. "It's the Latin name for Tiger Lily." He cleared his throat. "As a poet once said, 'now have I remembered the name but forgot the flower, the curse of literacy.' "

"An English teacher advocating illiteracy?"

"Not at all, I'm talking about pre-literacy, the language each of us carries with us before we learn anything rational. Its pre-literary ideas that are the basis for the supernatural or the unexplained. "

"You're getting philosophical, Frank."

"I do that from time to time."