August: A Ghost Story

"Could I convince you to shift into biographical mode for a bit?"

"Hmm?"

I nodded toward the house. "Mr. and Mrs. Booberry, what do you know about them?"

"Bits and pieces," he shrugged. "He came from England when he was young and joined the army. He fought in the civil war. After the war he met her and married her in San Francisco, brought her out here, built this place, invested in cattle and crops, made a bundle. According to the local paper he died in a fire in this very barn in the summer of 1900. He was 53."

"And she set the fire, right?"

Frank shrugged. "So the town legend goes."

"You sound incredulous. You don't believe it?"

"You asked for biography, not enhanced biography. These are the facts in archival evidence. If you want my honest opinion I have to admit I have none. They're both a little nuts as far as I'm concerned, so I wouldn't put anything past them. However, if he was a wife beater and she loathed him secretly all those years they lived together, why the heck is she still around?"

"Good question." I sighed and walked over to a something large covered by a tarp sitting off to the side of the barn. "What's under here?"

Frank put down the part he was working on and walked over to grab one end of the tarp. "Stand back."

I stood back as he tugged the tarp and revealed the dusty old Model A Ford.

"Vintage 1929 convertible with rumble seat," he smiled. "Dad and I fixed her up that one summer I stayed here after you kicked me out."

"After I kicked you out for a good reason."

He nodded and ran a hand along the edge of the cloth top, his fingers collecting dust. "This here was what you might have called my transitional person. Even gave her a name."

"Name?"

"Yes, when a man names a car it's a very special thing. Very few cars, contrary to what you may have heard, get names."

"So what's her name?"

"Lily."

I nodded, sucking on a tooth. "Now that's not creepy at all."

"Says the woman living in a haunted house."

"How often do you drive it?" I looked down at the faded white wall tires, yellowed and cracked from neglect.

"Oh, I've been meaning to give her a tune-up and replace the tires. I'd even drive her in the Labor Day parade if they'd let me. But, you know how it is."

"No, how is it?"

He shrugged. "Nobody to hand me tools and nobody to ride in her with." He walked around to the driver's side and opened the door. "Climb in, if you want to. Let's see if she'll start?"

I walked around and stepped in as he opened the bonnet on the old Ford. "Yeah, I remember when he bought this thing. Said fixing cars was the only therapy a man needed. Figuring out life is just like taking apart a small block with four in the floor and then putting the whole thing back together again so it runs just as nice as the day it motored out of Detroit."

"You loved your dad, huh, Frank?"

Frank nodded. "Never really knew him 'til that summer, and didn't stay in touch as much as I'd have liked. He was a quiet, secluded type of guy."

I watched as Frank reached under the dashboard and did something, then moved one lever, moved another lever, turned a rod and said, "Okay, when I say go pull up on this while you stomp your foot on that button on the floor." 

He walked back to the front of the car, stuck his head under the hood, wiggled something, and then said, "Go."

I did as instructed and there was a series of small clicks that eventually died. Frank reached under the hood and fiddled with something and then waved for me to try again. This time there was a spark of electricity and a sputter, but the engine didn't quite turn over. Frank nodded. "The rotor and points are probably shot." He nodded. "I'll have to order some new ones from Wichita, we used to have a guy down here..." He came around to the door, wiping his hands on a rag which he then flung over his shoulder. "You look good in it."

"Why'd you name it after me?"

He shrugged. "Cause it's the kind of car you take to picnics on Sunday evenings, and drive to the movies on Friday nights, it has class, pretty good speed, and the first day I worked on her the bonnet fell on my hand and sliced it open. There was no other name for her at that point." He held up his hand. "Still have the scar on my palm."

I took the hand and looked at the scar a moment. I let my other hand rest on his chest where there was another scar. "You never did tell me about that one, you know?"

He shrugged. "Lawn dart. I was five."

He ran a hand under the hem of my pencil skirt, rested it on my left knee, feeling a little crease in the skin. "While we're on the subject what happened here? I don't remember this from before."

"Skiing, our fifth anniversary. I spent half the trip in the condo with ice on my knee and him calling me on his cell from the top of the mountain to check in."

"Prick."

"I made him go, didn't want to spoil his trip."

"I never imagined you'd be one of those people who stayed in condos." Our lips were very close, I could feel his hand brush up past my knee as he leaned in and I let myself move back on the bench seat. "But then again, you were always a mess of surprises..."

As our lips met I became aware of a distant whining noise, very high-pitched, and as Frank's mouth moved from mine, down to my neck, I felt him pause and look up. "Damn! What's the date?"

"Um, the seventeenth." He shot up and climbed out of the car and around to look out of the barn door. He ran back around and closed the door abruptly. "What?"

"It's my weekend. Lily," he said. "I love you, but keep quiet. And, uh, I'm sorry."

And with that he'd run around, grabbed the tarp despite my protests and haphazardly tossed it up and over the top of the car, leaving me in a dusty half darkness. I scooted over to the passenger side of the car where the tarp had caught on the roof, leaving a patch of the world visible through the front windscreen. My breath caught as I watched the two kids on the little Kawasaki pull up. The rider killed its engine as his passenger jumped off and removed her helmet to shake out her long, blonde hair and smiled at Frank.

Maggie Wilson ran up as friendly as could be and gave Frank a peck on his cheek, letting loose a perky, "Hey, daddy."

To which Frank responded. "Hey, munchkin."

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

Now, I'd like to say that I was very calm and collected and took the news with quiet, dignity and grace. But when you're stashed under a tarpaulin, covered in dust motes, hiding from teenagers, you really just can't help but think it's time to screw decorum.

"YOU HAVE A KID!"

Frank turned just in time to receive the full force of my fist in his nose. I'd listened only to the first seconds of the conversation before the rage had me bursting out of the old Ford and running out of the barn in nothing but my undershirt and half-zipped skirt wielding a mean right cross.

Frank took the blow squarely and teetered back a foot or so before cupping his nose and shaking his head, letting out, what I must admit, was not quite the most agonized scream I'd wanted to hear. He laughed as he wiped at a little drop of blood from his nose and turned to face the kids.

"Maggie, Jake, this is Lily." Realizing my skirt was half open and a bit of my red silk panties were showing I suddenly hid behind Frank, mortified, and zipped up. "Lily is an old friend who's staying with me that you weren't supposed to know about, but Lily can't seem to understand the concept of hiding." He turned, his nose still dripping a bit of blood. "Lily, this is my daughter Maggie Wilson and her boyfriend Jake."

I set my jaw and scowled at him. "We've met."

Maggie giggled and extended her hand. "Hello again, Ms. Hawkes."

I shook her hand. "Hi." I turned to Jake. "How's your backside?"

"Sore." He ran a hand over his short spiky hair. He turned his attention to Frank. "So, um, can we stay or are you two busy?"

Frank and I exchanged glances. "We were just..."

"He was showing me the old Ford in the barn."

Jake ran a finger over his upper lip, trying to hide his smirk, casting a sly look over at Frank who shook his head, scowling. Jake coughed and put down the kickstand on his bike. "It is the 17th, right?"

Frank nodded. "It is."

"Would you tip your head back? You're getting blood all over yourself." I walked over and took a Kleenex out of the pocket of my skirt.

"Ouch," Frank took the Kleenex and looked sideways out of the corner of his eye at the laughing kids. "You think this is funny?"

Maggie shook her head. "Hell of a fuckin' surprise, dad."

"Watch your language." He took the Kleenex away from his nose and held it out for my scrutiny. "Care to have another swing?"

I folded my arms. "I'm going to go put my shirt on." I stomped back into the barn and took my blouse off the nail where I had hung it. I heard him send the kids on into the house and in a moment he was there with me, putting the tarp back over the car.

"She's illegitimate."

I turned to face him. "You said you'd 'fooled around a bit' and you'd talked about 'family ties.' You and that woman?"

"Not my proudest conquest, Lily."

"Damn it, you could have told me."

"How was it any of your business? Did I ask you for details about your husband? Did I ask for a roster of all the men you've been with in the last eighteen years? No. I respected your privacy and trusted you to respect mine."

"If I'd had a kid you would have known about it."

He walked over to the workbench and took some sanitary wipes out of a little container on the edge. He wiped the grease from his hands as he walked over.

"Exactly how many times did you almost tell me?"

"Thousands." He tossed the wipes in a metal waste bin and leaned against the workbench. "You know, you move out of a big city to escape complications, to settle back where you had roots... and what happens? Life is twenty times more fucked up here than it was back there."

"She's a secret."

"Yes, Lily. Her mother's and mine. Nobody in town knows, not even her stepfather."

I put my hands against my temples, massaging a sudden headache. Frank's hands were over mine in a moment, rubbing clockwise. "If you want to sleep alone tonight, I'll understand."

I opened my eyes, suddenly angry. "I should leave you."

He nodded. "Yes, you should."

"You're only saying that because you know I'm not going to."

He kissed the side of my forehead and held me tight in his arms, speaking softly into my ear. "No, I'm saying it because I don't want you to."

There was a sound of a throat being cleared behind us. We both turned to find Maggie standing in the open barn door, the summer afternoon sky turning a violent pinkish orange behind her as the sun was beginning to set.

"Jake and I wanted to know if we can have the frozen pizza in the icebox?"

Frank nodded. "Sure, sport-o. I'll be in to fix it for you in a minute."

Chapter Forty:

"So, you knew each other in college?" We were at the dinner table. Maggie and Jake had polished off all of the frozen pizza and two bowls of ice cream, while Frank and I had told them the PG-13 version of our college years as well as an abbreviated accounting of the past two weeks. "Was dad handsome back then?"

"No, very ugly. I took pity on him."

Maggie and Jake both laughed as Frank picked up their empty ice cream dishes and took them over to the sink. "Pity on me? Ha! She was a bookworm who didn't have an adventurous bone in her body until she met me."

I nodded my head in concession. "I was a bit of a prude."

"No," Jake said, in mock astonishment. Maggie kicked him under the table.

"I apologize for the stupid monkey."

I nodded. "I'd apologize for mine to, only it's inexcusable."

Frank crossed to a cabinet next to the pantry, bent over and rummaged inside. "Sounds like this is shaping up into a boys against girls session, huh, Jake?"

"Session?" I straightened a bit in my seat. "What do you mean?"

From the cabinet, Frank produced a small blue plastic container, a timer and a sack of white cubes with letters printed on them.

"We play boggle." Maggie patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, though, you're on my team and I'm much smarter than the two of them combined."

I smiled at Frank. "Looks like you're going down, Mr. Collins."

"No Spanish words, Ms. Hawkes."

And so we played, all through the evening until past nine when Frank gathered up the board as Maggie lifted her hands above her head in victory. Jake got up from his chair, stretched, thanked everyone for a lovely evening and Maggie walked him to the front door.

"She's a smart kid," I said, as Frank resealed the plastic bag with the Boggle cubes. "Obviously gets that from her mother."

Frank leered at me. "You're going the right way for a smacked bottom."

"Actually, already had one today, thanks."

Maggie breezed back into the kitchen all rosy-cheeked. "May I be excused to the library, please?"

Frank nodded. "You may be, if you give me a kiss and say good night to Lily."

She crossed the kitchen and kissed her father on his cheek and then waved saying simply, "Good night, Ms. Hawkes," before traipsing off up the stairs.

"She'll stay in there all night." He smiled, crossing and putting his hands around my waist. "Reads so much it worries me."

"Frank..." His lips were already kissing my hair.

"Yes?" I felt one of his hands move down the small of my back to the zipper on my skirt.

"Is there a window in the library?"

He paused in his kissing. "Yes, why?"

I smiled up at him. "Is it on the side of the house with the trellis?"

"Ye..." He was out of the kitchen and up the stairs like a shot.

Apparently I'm not the only one who didn't hear the Kawasaki drive away.

I sauntered out into the main hall just in time to see Jake practically thrown down the stairs, his T-shirt and leather racing jacket thrown after him and Frank barking like a mad dog. "Keep it in your pants, Junior, or I'll invest in a shotgun and blow it off!"

Jake was out the door, a flurry of apologies, and when we heard the high whine of the bike, Frank turned to look up the stairs at his daughter on the landing.

"I hate you!" she shouted at him, and then stormed down the stairs passing me, politely saying, "Excuse me, Lily," and then off into the back of the house to the nursery room and her door was briskly opened and then slammed shut violently.

"Bravo, Sonny Jim." George was chuckling as he appeared on the stairs next to Frank. "Wondered if you'd ever catch on..."

"You could have let me in on it, you bastard!"

"Me? Not a chance, far too much fun." He drifted up the stairs toward his bedroom. "And just imagine, in the library of all places?"

The door to his bedroom shut softly and Frank glowered after him. He looked down at me, and I'm ashamed to admit, I was fighting fits of laughter.

"What in hell do you find so funny?"

"Nothing," I shook my head in mock astonishment. "It's just interesting to see you so protective of a young girl's virtue."

Chapter Forty-One:

Dark, uncomfortable heat. He lay there, asleep, smelling of rich tobacco, his arm around me. There the children wouldn't see. We were alone.

Then thirsty, sleepless. Thighs are sore, climbing down the ladder, and out, closing the large door, naked in August moonlight. At the pump I heard the crackling. By then it's too late.

"No!" I started awake, covered in a cold sweat. It was night and I screamed when I felt Frank's hand on my shoulder.

"What? Lily, shush. It was just a bad dream."

I held him, choking back tears. "Oh, God, I dreamt..." I buried my face in his chest, shaking away the mist, fog and smoke. "Frank, I love you."

We both tensed a bit, suddenly very aware of the words I'd just uttered. I listened to him breathe once, twice, and then as his hand moved over my hair, and his arm tightened around my shoulders he said it softly, "I love you, too, Lily."

I huddled in close to him until I felt his breathing slow once more. And when I was sure he was asleep I crept down the hall, looking into the library. It was dark inside with the exception of the glow of a single lamp. Under it, Maggie slept, a book lying open on her stomach. I closed the door and felt the slight cool breeze beside me.

"Hello, Helena."

She moved along the gallery toward the stairs with me and as we descended she began to speak.

"I know what they say. That I started the fire." She shook her head. "But you saw..."

"You were nowhere near." I turned to face her.

"I left the lantern in the barn with him. I didn't want to have to bother to carry it up and down the ladder when all I wanted was a drink of water." The house was very quiet. "I spent so many nights after that crying myself to sleep. I felt so responsible. Then the town, they started talking..." She sniffled, rubbing the back of her hand over her nose. "The children were teased at school. It's not bad enough they had to lose their father but they had to hear their mother called a murderess."

"Why couldn't you just tell me that? Tell me, did I invite you into my head?"

She held up a hand. "I know, I'm sorry. We both are."

"Both?" I heard the bedroom door upstairs open. I turned and looked up to see Frank standing in the doorway, smiling down at me sinisterly, he was naked and as he moved out onto the gallery I felt the cold slip into me and it was like a satin veil had been placed over my head and with it, the world seemed to slip away into darkness.

Chapter Forty-Two:

We decided on his room. Francis and Lillian had taken over mine and the girl was in the library.

"I'm not sure I'm quite at home in this." He ran his hands through the dark, unruly hair that was almost, but not quite, like his had been. It was interesting to hear his accent filtered through another man's vocal chords.

"You look fine, George." I looked at Lily's face in the mirror, bunching her brown curls up on top of her head with my hands. "Aside from the blue lips and the odd modern way of wearing her hair, she is very pretty, don't you think?"

"Not as pretty as you are, er, were, I mean."

Turning to face his sinister smile, I said. "You'll have to make do."

"You'll have to make do, as well, I suppose."

He was very close, his hands roving over my skin, as I pushed my fingers under his chin. "We're wasting time, you know?"

"Been a long time. Forgot what a body felt like. And what another body felt like to a body." Reaching out, he touched me. "I have to imagine it warm."

I put my hand on his. "It's like the first time, isn't it?"

"Actually, you're not throwing things at me..."

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Are you going to just stand there?"

The sudden impact of his fist in my stomach made me double over onto the floor. I panted out a slight cough, and then a low groan of satisfaction. "Y-yes..."

He bent over and lifted my chin, roughly. Our eyes locked and I kissed him firmly before he pushed me away with his bare foot. "Miserable slut," he said, walking around the brass bed.

I stood, using the dresser to brace myself, the pain inside subsided. I cursed him and lunged across the room at him, my nails out ready to claw his ruddy face. He swatted me out of the air with a backhand. I fell to the bed, my face burning from the electricity of the smack.

"Oh, George..."

He grabbed my arm and rolled me over onto my side, smacking my bare bottom with harsh, loud smacks. I let out little screams of pleasure and then he stopped and lay beside me. "Enough?"

My breathing was heavy as I struggled against his hands pinning my wrists. "For now," I said. "Kiss me, George. Please, kiss me again."