August: A Ghost Story

"Ooh, still sore about yesterday morning, eh? Well, I suppose I should apologize. But you did bring up a rather hot subject with me."

"What hot subject?"

"Burning to death. It was quite unpleasant if you must know."

"Well, my point is, I don't like that woman. I don't like the fact that she took advantage of a man who'd just been hurt and got him to knock her up. I don't like that she has to keep the fact that Frank is Maggie's father a secret. I don't like that Maggie has to hide the fact that she has a God-given talent for poetry. If you want my honest assessment, that woman is an uptight narrow-minded bitch!"

There was the sound of a loud bang behind me, and both George and I turned to see all four chairs at the kitchen table had been tipped over at once. I looked at George "Why did you do that?"

George looked at me with an equal amount of surprise. "Wasn't me."

I turned to look out to see Evelyn Wilson moving past Frank with a look of consternation on her face, charging toward the kitchen grumbling something about, "That McCormick punk better not be..."

I backed away from the door as George dissipated and I almost bolted for the door to the solarium when the kitchen door swung wide and I was face to face with the woman herself.

Chapter Fifty:

The inevitability of meeting Evelyn Wilson had been pressed upon me subtly over the course of my few weeks in Bradbury, Kansas. If there were a board or committee in the town that she was not a member of, her husband was on it instead.

I had been, Frank assured me, fortunate to have spent a good deal of my time "at home" over the course of the first weeks leading up to the beginning of school.

However, meeting one another in this manner, I doubt either of us had been prepared. She was dressed for church in a conservative blue suit that might have been in style as far back as 1960. Her earrings were pearl as was her necklace and her hair -- a lighter blonde than her daughter's -- was lightly feathered making her look like a well done, young, hybrid of Jackie Onassis and Farah Faucet.

I felt very self-conscious despite having a good three inches on her in height. I felt a million years older and knew I probably looked it without makeup, dressed in sweats and house slippers, with my hair done up in a clip. I'd foregone a top feeling it was unnecessary and was in a white Adidas sports bra.

The sudden crashing of the table chairs to the floor had startled me, as had the woman's sudden bursting into the kitchen to discover me. For the first few seconds, I think, we both simply studied each other -- her in confusion and I in something not quite unlike horror.

The kitchen door squeaked open slowly behind her and Frank, wincing, leaned against it, propping it open.

I looked over her shoulder at him and she turned to him as I looked. "Who is this?"

"Eve, this is Lily Hawkes, she's the new Spanish instructor." He nodded.

She turned back. "Oh, well, uh, I've been meaning to, um, well..." She turned back to Frank. "What is she doing here?"

I squeaked and then found my voice. "I -- I live here." There was a beat before I added, "With Frank."

Maggie was slightly behind her father in the dining room looking in at the scene. She looked at me and then took a tentative step toward the door. "Mom?"

Evelyn Wilson looked to her daughter, who was waving that they should go or else they would be late for church.

Evelyn turned back to face me, her smile coming on in a manner that was a bit sinister. "Well, isn't that nice. Um, well, we must be going. A pleasure to meet you, officially, Ms. Hawkes. I'm sure you will remember that my husband invited you to dinner with us as soon as you were settled." She glanced in the general direction of Frank before continuing. "I'm sure you won't forget."

"Thank you," I said. "I -- I..."

She nodded derisively and then turned on her tan high heels and brushed past Frank to follow Maggie out the door.

Frank gave me a small little smile and then turned to call after them.

"Always a pleasure, Eve."

She stopped at the door and turned, smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Ms. Hawkes," she looked then at Frank and added "Burn in hell, Frank."

With that she left, letting the front door slam behind her.

Frank nodded at the dramatic punctuation and then looked back at me. "More coffee?"

Chapter Fifty-One:

"Scary," I said, moving past him through the dining room to go up the stairs. "I can see why you bailed on being the father of her child."

There was a sudden slamming as if every door in the house had been opened and shut in the same instant. Frank was behind me then, fury in his eyes. "That is not what happened."

"Oh, it's not? Pray tell, super dad, what exactly did happen?"

"What happened? Let's start with what happened in the kitchen, what gave you the bright idea to go and rearrange furniture at just the wrong moment?"

"I... I didn't..."

"Oh, yes she did." He was on the stairs above me, looking down at the two of us. "She was in a tizzy over you and the blonde and then boom. I suppose Helen isn't the only one being affected by our..." his smile widened, "nocturnal activities."

Frank's eyes narrowed at the ghost. I was aware of a slight rumbling from somewhere underneath the house.

"Oh, don't glare at me like that, boy." The captain moved down the stairs, his boots causing them to creak as he walked. "It wasn't my idea to keep you out of the loop."

"What's he talking about, Lily?"

Helena appeared on the step below the captain, her leg extended like the arm of a tollbooth. "You're such a jackass sometimes, George."

The captain cocked an eyebrow at Helena, looking her up and down. "Her manner of dress would be considered immodest."

"And you like it, admit it you old fuddy duddy."

"...Also her language seems to have suffered for all the intermingling of souls."

"Lily, what is he talking about?"

Helena answered as she idly ran a hand up the lapel of the captain's top coat. "Frank's getting angry, George. Can you feel it? Do you think we might try it when they're awake just once?"

George pushed her away as she reached for him and sent her harshly into the banister. He continued down the stairs until he was at eye level with me. "Whatever it is you've done to my wife, I'm not sure I'm pleased with it."

"Me?"

"Ever since she went fiddling about in your head, feeding on your dreams and your memories, she's been just worse and worse." He looked at Frank. "Makes me thankful I respected the boy's privacy, it does."

We all looked down the stairs to where Frank stood, his fist clenching and unclenching. When he spoke it was quiet but menacing and aimed along with an unfriendly scowl at me. "Am I the only one able to hear the sound of my voice anymore in this house?"

I turned to George. Helena was behind him, playing with the hair over his right ear and making him swat at her in annoyance.

He maintained his Victorian inscrutability. "Don't look at me."

"Well, I don't know what the hell is going on. All I know is she wouldn't be this way if she hadn't possessed me and he really deserves to know exactly how many times you've possessed him."

I was about to say more when suddenly we were all distracted by the soft gentle singing coming from Helena, as she floated around on the stairs. "Little Miss Lily, you're dreadfully silly to wear such a very long skirt: If you take my advice, you would hold it up nice, and not let it trail in the dirt."

"I-is she alright?" I took a step up the stairs toward her and George caught my arm.

"Don't go near her. You've done enough damage."

"Me? She did it to herself! And just because you don't like it, that doesn't mean it's damage."

"Damned skippy," Helena smiled and waltzed down the stairs. "I've gotten in touch with my wild side, my wild side, my wild side..." She sang and then she sat on the stairs clutching George's leg. "Oh, you ought to have Lily tell you about the Grilled Cheese Sandwich she had in Cedar City."

I blushed a little bit, as Helena winked at me.

"My, she has been delving deep, hasn't she?" I looked at George. "Can, can it be fixed?"

"How the bloody hell should I know. It's the first time it's happened. Besides, she's not what I'm worried about. How long have the two of you been able to make things flitter about and such?"

I shrugged. "I... this is the first time I've done it."

Frank was still skeptical, "Oh, come on, you really expect us to believe that you didn't have anything to do with causing the chairs to fall for your own amusement?"

"What's amusing about that woman? She never intrigued me in the least, not from the first moment you brought her here."

"George is fickle, George is fickle..." Helena giggled running her hand up George's inseam. He smacked her hand away.

"Woman, there is a time and a place..."

"I'm not busy now and this place seems fine."

I looked up the stairs at the humming Helena. Her eyes met mine and she smiled. There was something comforting in it, as if she had an understanding the rest of us lacked and then everything was shattered by a sudden knocking at the front door.

Helena smiled, "Race you to the bedroom, George."

The ghosts were gone again, I turned to share a glance with Frank, who seemed only to glare at me for a second before turning, crossing the entry-hall and opening the door.

"Mr. Collins?" The man was in the brown shorts and shirt of UPS. Frank signed for the package and nodded his good-bye before closing the door. I began moving up the stairs, feeling his gaze on my back without having to see it.

"I didn't know," he said.

I stopped, looking up from the landing to the gallery leading to the room we'd been sharing. I didn't say anything, just waited.

"I'd been back about a year when Evelyn came. It was the middle of the night. Emma had already moved in by then, so you can imagine my surprise."

I looked down the stairs at him. He'd set the box by the door and was running a hand over the back of his neck.

"I mean, dad had told me she'd married the preacher right after I'd left and then... but, well, I never thought much of it. So she told me about Maggie, because she found out I was going to be teaching at the high school."

"Maggie has your eyes."

"And her mother's hair," he nodded. "So, to say I bailed on being Maggie's father is a distortion of the truth. I ran out on Evelyn Wilson. Had I known she was pregnant at the time..." He sighed. "Who knows, I might have stayed here the last 15 years in a miserable marriage instead of making a name for myself elsewhere."

"You're very good at making speeches, aren't you, Frank?" I glared at him a moment. "Well, you go and work on your car..."

"What happened in the kitchen?"

I shrugged. "What caused the hood on your car to slice your hand all those years ago?"

He smirked. "Good guess."

"It wasn't one. I don't know how I know about it but..." I hugged myself.

"...You just know, huh?"

I nodded and turned and walked up the set of stairs leading to the captain's room. "I think it's best if we sleep separately for a while."

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not, Frank. You've never done anything wrong in your whole life, have you?" I slammed the door as best I could. The jam was still broken from the first night I'd stayed in the house. The bed was still mussed, a sheet fallen almost halfway onto the floor.

Damn him. I rolled onto my side, looking at the growing light of the mid-day sunshine. I heard the front door open and shut. Frank was on his way out to the barn to work on his stupid old car. She's right, he should burn in hell.

Letting my hands fall back off the edge of the bed I touched something soft and leathery. I rolled over and looked at the journal, lying open on the floor. I spun it around and flipped to one of the pages filled with angry words and hellish drawings.

A drawing of an open maw, teeth large and frightening seemed frozen in a horrific scream and in the mouth were words, scribbled over and over and over again, hateful words, words of fear and confusion. Random sentences written one over another so that they were hard to decipher, and deep down, as if surrounded by all this darkness, at the back of the throat of his hellish monster, so tiny and delicately sketched that I had to lower my face close to the page, she sat, a single white female form in the center of a raging storm.

I stared at her until the light of the morning had faded into afternoon and then, somewhere in the middle of the day, I closed my eyes and slept.

THE PAST

Chapter Fifty-Two:

I walked in tossing my keys in the bowl on the counter and then moved into the kitchenette, shaking some of the rain from my hair.

"Food," I called, as I took out the little cardboard cartons from the brown paper bag and opened them, letting some of the steam pour out from the cashew chicken and vegetable lo mien. I moved back into the living room area of the apartment and took my parka off, moving back toward the bedroom.

He was on the floor at the foot of the bed, pages spread all around him in a sort of elaborate halo on the floor. A pen was stuck between his lips and his glasses were slipping down his nose, his hair was almost down to his shoulders now, and he kept brushing it aside with a free hand. He was wrapped in a towel as if he'd just come out of the shower but his hair was dry.

"Hey." I said, tapping the door.

He looked up reluctantly.

"Food," I said again, leaning my head against the door. "Unless this is one of those phases where you don't eat at all for three days and don't get any sleep."

He took off his glasses and stood, tiptoeing around the pages to kiss me on the cheek. "Sorry, got caught up."

I kissed his collarbone and inhaled. "Luckily it was after you'd taken a shower, huh?"

I felt his hand move into the hollow at the small of my back. "How was school?"

"Fine. Child development is an interesting class."

"Para no te gusta clases no usar espanol, si?"

"You're getting better," I leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. "Your accent is almost flawless."

"I Love Lucy on Nick at Nite," he leaned back, grinning. "I can even laugh like Desi Arnaz if you want."

I batted his shoulder. "No, don't, you'll do it too well and I'll never be able to have sex with you again without picturing him."

"Well, look at it this way, you've got one more semester and then you're in a classroom all your own with tons of kids to cram full of preterits and subjunctives."

"That's 'preteritos' and 'subjunctivos,' Senor Collins." I ran my lips gently along the line of his jaw.

"Marry me."

I stopped and suddenly it was like there was no sound in the world for a second. I stepped back and looked him in the eye. "What?"

"I said, 'marry me.' " He was serious.

I shook my head. "You were on the floor, in your own little world, I came in told you it was dinner, you made a crack about Desi Arnaz and that lead into a marriage proposal."

He nodded, "Lame?"

"A bit."

"Noodles?"

I laughed at him. "Put some pants on."

I shook my head and went back to the kitchen. In a minute he joined me. He'd put on jeans and put his hair back with a rubber band.

He opened the fridge and took out two sodas, one he handed to me, the other he set on the counter as he reached into the brown bag for chopsticks. "So, that's a 'no,' then?"

"Is that okay?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Two years with one person is a personal best for me. I kind of feel proud, thought I'd like to make something official out of it."

"And it doesn't bother you at all, that neither you nor I has ever managed to say the words 'I love you' to one another?"

"I love you, Lily."

I scowled at him. "I mean in a way that isn't contrived or awkward."

"Oh, sorry." He cleared his throat, picking up the container of cashew chicken. "How's this. Lily, you're the most wonderful person I've ever met, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you very much. You feel like home to me."

"Now you're just writing a love scene."

"Damn it." He slammed the container down. "I love you."

"Don't buy it. Eat your chicken and noodles."

I looked at his bare feet and then into his eyes. He wasn't angry. But there was something inside him, deep down, that made the rest of him seem for a moment like just flesh and bone. He blinked once and then picked up the container again and pinched up some chicken into his mouth.

"Oh, well," he sighed. He added, "Worth a shot," as he walked out of the kitchen munching chicken chow mien.

And suddenly George was there.

"Having fun?"

THE PRESENT

Chapter Fifty-Three:

I started awake and he was there, hovering above me, his arms folded as he seemed to drift in a sort of cloudy form.

"Sorry to wake you." He rolled through the air, making something like a pirouette before touching down on the ground. "It's interesting to see that from your point of view."

"Who invited you into it?"

He walked to the window. I was amazed to see that it had grown dark out, the evening fading out to dusk, the night coming on quickly.

"You didn't think he was being sincere, is that it?"

I rolled off the bed and went to the mirror. "Frank always treated it like some sort of game. It was all just fun. And then suddenly out of the blue like that..."

I stopped talking, watching as he moved over to the edge of the bed where the journal lay open to the page I'd been reading when I fell asleep. He reached a hand out to touch the page and then he closed the book, turning back to look at me.

"You should have said 'yes,' Then all of it could have been avoided."

"What could have been avoided?"

"Pain," he said at length. "My life was always filled with pain. I came to America from England to escape pain, I found a war that was nothing but exponential pain, and after the war ended... What does a soldier do when soldiers aren't needed anymore?" He turned from the window. "Then, after years of wondering I found this little slip of a girl who taught me something about pain. Taught me there was something in it that one could control. I fell in love with her for that lesson."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"After the fire, I was here. Oh, my body was gone, but I was here, every day watching my children grow up and have children of their own. I saw the house slowly emptied of them all until she was alone. I watched her grow older, at night sometimes she would cry and I would have given anything to have been able to touch her, to tell her I was still here. You see, that was a kind of pain I never enjoyed inflicting."

"And when she died?"

"I was beside her bed, there was a doctor. There was a moment when she was in great discomfort and looking at him and then, as the pain left her, she turned from him and looked at me." He smiled. "No matter what fate throws at you, no matter how insurmountable the odds, there is always a choice, this way or that, heads or tails, yes or no." He turned and looked out at the barn in the growing darkness. "Go," he said.

"Go? Go where?"

"Out to the barn." He turned and began to fade away. "Frank is hurt. He needs you." He stopped long enough to say, "I'll try and move far enough away so that your fancy telephone works."

I looked at him fading and then I knew. "Rodger."

Chapter Fifty-Four:

The land line was dead, so I tried my cell and, to my relief, there was finally a signal. I gave the address to 9-1-1 and then, as the operator started questioning me, I panicked and screamed, "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? SOMEBODY'S DYING HERE. SEND THE POLICE, SEND THE FIRE DEPARTMENT, SEND THE FUCKING NATIONAL GUARD, I DON'T CARE WHO, JUST SEND SOME HELP!"