by David Clark
“Yep. I never got rid of it, so it just seemed right.”
“Did you have to do a lot of work to get it ready?”
“Nah, I hired someone to act as a caretaker for it. He went by every few months and checked on it and made repairs as needed.”
Sharon was taken aback at the thought of someone taking care of it. Her voice quivered as she asked, “He didn’t mind?”
Edward replied reassuringly, “Not at all.” Mr. Morris never said anything to Edward that gave any indication he had any apprehensions about going to the house. Just like Mark’s response earlier, Edward doubted this would be the last person to react to the thought. “Mr. Morris never said anything or asked any questions. Not even sure he was completely aware of the circumstances around the house.”
“Jim Morris? Old Man Morris?” asked Sharon.
“Yes, he was recommended by a realtor in the area.”
“Oh, he knows all about what happens- I… I… mean what happened there.”
“She means the tragedy around your parents.” Mark shot his wife a look as he stepped in to save her from the uncomfortable conversation she wandered into.
“Mr. Morris just likes to fix things.” Mark’s expression changed into a youthful, devilish half smile. “Do you remember that time when we were six and playing summer ball? Tim Wischter overthrew you at first base by twenty feet and broke the window in the side of the school building.”
“Oh god, I remember that. I watched it go over my head and right into the glass. Shattered it into hundreds of pieces.” Edward tried to remember if Tim ever made the throw from shortstop to first that summer.
“Mr. Morris fixed that. Tim’s father offered to pay him, but Mr. Morris said he was just happy to see someone on the team had an arm on him.”
Edward spits out the sip of sweet tea he just took and said, “Oh come on, we weren’t that bad.”
“Ummm, we were. All year we played round robin against the other three teams and we had more ties than wins or losses. No one could hit anything.” It would appear Mark’s memory of their baseball days was not as rosy as Edward’s. Edward thought they were all future all-stars.
From across the way, a brief cheer erupted from the pickup game between Chase and Jacob. Jacob made his first bucket of the game. Of course, Edward believed the six-foot-three teen went easy on the seven-year-old and let him score, but to Jacob, it was still a victory.
The conversations and reminiscing moved to a lighter tone and turned into a game of “whatever happened to” with various people from Edward’s past. He was not that surprised to hear that most of his old friends and classmates still lived in town. Most of those that left for college came back to settle down.
As the evening moved along, the kids tired of the basketball game and sat on the deck and talked among themselves. Well, Chase talked about football. Jacob hung on every word. Sarah hadn’t stopped staring into his eyes. Edward doubted she heard anything Chase had said. A smile crept onto Edward’s face. For the first time since Karen’s passing, his kids looked happy and were just being kids.
Sharon leaned over, saying something to Mark, the expressions on each of their faces unpleasant. Sharon gave Edward a hug. “It’s late, and I have an early morning tomorrow. It was great seeing you. We will be seeing you around.” She then walked over to the kids and told them it was nice meeting them before heading back inside. Edward felt embarrassed and pulled out his phone to check the time. It was just after nine. In the city that is considered earlier, but this was a different world.
“Sorry about that, Mark. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Oh, it is fine. Not that late at all. You just don’t want to be on the road out toward your place any later than this. It isn’t safe.” Mark caught himself before he finished his statement.
Hearing the warning as more than just something related to overstaying one’s welcome, Edward inquired, “Why is that?”
“The roads are dark and pretty winding.”
While that was true, Edward’s car had headlights, and it wasn’t that dangerous of a drive. Not wanting to question his friend, he called to his kids to get ready and thanked Mark for the great night. They talked about doing it again and Mark agreed. “Absolutely.”
“See you at work tomorrow, Mark.”
“Yep. See you tomorrow. Drive straight home and be safe.”
Edward backed out of the driveway and onto the road. An uneasy feeling came over him. He was not sure if it was what Mark said to him, or how Mark watched them intently as they backed out and headed down the road.
8
During the drive home, Edward had to admit, Mark was right, it was quite dark. Street lights created small islands of light at the intersections. The rest of the road was only illuminated by the moonlight glowing through the trees or his own headlights. Edward kept the high-beams on the entire time, having not passed a single car the whole way home. He did slow down as he passed the last intersection before his driveway; he didn’t want to drive right past the opening.
Edward pulled in and through the trees and within seconds they emerged into the open pasture of the farm which was fully lit by the moon. A slight layer of fog hovered above the ground as the cool night air settled in.
Edward pulled to a stop at the back of the house. He and his kids exited the car and headed toward the house. A few steps away from the back steps, something made him stop. A familiar cold and empty chill filled his lungs and radiated throughout his body. Then something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A movement, not that far away from them in the fog. Edward paused for a moment to look in that direction and saw nothing at first, but then it was there again for only a second before it disappeared. It was not clear enough for him to make out what it was. He tried to convince his mind it was just a denser area of fog flowing in the air, but several aspects of that story fell flat on the logical side of his brain. First, there was no wind of any type. Second, there were no other areas in the fog that looked or behaved like that. But the most important factual detail was that there was a shape to it. With his past and what he saw the first night, he would be naïve to not consider other possibilities.
When Edward turned around to follow his kids inside, he nearly ran into Sarah standing there, fixated on the same area. “Sarah, honey. What is it?”
She did not break her gaze.
With no response, he took a step closer and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sarah, are you OK?”
Sarah snapped out of the trance and looked at her father with a fearful expression. “Yes, daddy, I’m fine.”
Her tone of voice and a term she hasn’t used since she was nine alerted him to the possibility she saw the same object.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, just tired. I am going to go in and get ready for bed.” Her voice was more resolute this time, but still not convincing to her father.
Sarah headed inside and Edward followed her as far as the top of the stairs leading up to the porch. He stood there, looking back at the same spot for several minutes, to convince himself he either saw a spirit or something else. Unconvinced either way, Edward headed inside disturbed, confused, and feeling helpless. As a father, Edward wanted to create a safe and happy environment here. With everything they’d been through over the last year or so, his children deserved that.
At the top of the stairs, he noticed Sarah’s door open. He looked inside, wanting to check on her to make sure she was OK, and found her in bed all covered up and fast asleep. Edward could be jumping to conclusions. Was it possible he misinterpreted her being tired for something else?
Maybe she saw him and turned to look too. He was not sure. He had been through a lot with his daughter and had seen that look before. That was the same expression he saw on her face the night Karen told them all enough was enough, that she wanted to stop trying. None of the four of them shed a tear at that moment. Each of them knew it was coming, even the kids who were mature beyond their ye
ars in such matters. He remembered the looks on everyone’s face and the feeling of being exhausted like it was yesterday. They had been through a war. Every day was a new battle through the raw emotions. It was as much physically draining as it was emotionally heartbreaking.
Edward looked in on his daughter one last time, then flipped off the light and pulled the door shut before walking down the hall to his room.
The sounds of laser fire emerged from Jacob’s room. Edward poked his head inside and found his son in an all too familiar position. Headphones on, controller in hand, and attention focused on the flashing screen of his video game. Edward thought about telling him it was bed time, but they have just a few more days of summer vacation and let it slide and closed the door.
Feeling rather tired himself, Edward knew there was one last ghost to confront tonight. One he had put off since returning home. He stood in the doorway of his parents old bedroom holding a box and knew there was no sense in avoiding it anymore and stepped inside. Much like the seven-year-old he used to be, he stood right inside the door for a few moments before taking another step. Back then the pause was to look for his parents. Now it was to absorb the memories. All the times his father sat in the chair in the corner lacing up his shoes. Seeing his mother sitting at her make-up table; the same table still covered with assorted cosmetics. The closet still full of their clothes. After one last look around, Edward took his second and then his third step into the room and placed the box on his father’s chair.
Edward stripped the bed and put on a new set of sheets and folded a corner back. Before he climbed in, he took one final look out the window. The fog had settled in thick, obscuring the pasture and the tree line from his view. There were no mysterious lights dancing in the fog tonight, No voices or haunting sounds. Just a cool night with the occasional cricket chirping its delight. The scene was peaceful. Edward cracked the window to allow in the cool night air and the rich fragrance from the wildflowers and lavender growing in the pasture. There was many a night in his youth he fell asleep just like this. Those were some of the best nights of sleep he ever had. Tonight, he could use one of those.
Edward climbed in and pulled up the covers and, as he had done every night since her passing, he thought of his wife until he fell asleep. The five clouds of vapor that circled him did not seem offended when he forgot to bid them a good night before falling asleep.
9
Edward focused on adjusting his lesson plans for the first nine weeks. He sat down the day before with Madeline Smith, the head of the English department, and reviewed his plans. He entered rather confident, hoping to impress her with how he organized his classes. Much to Edward's surprise, the lesson plans were not what she desired. Instead of criticizing and destroying his confidence, she provided feedback and suggestions, feedback that Edward was more than enthusiastic to receive.
His lessons followed the same pattern he had used throughout the years in Oregon. Lecture about a specific period of literature, then read one to two pieces from the period. All reading occurred at home, with discussion and a few quizzes about what was read each day in class to gauge comprehension. Once the assigned reading was completed, there was a multiple-choice test. Edward never liked using multiple-choice to test the comprehension and knowledge of a piece of literature. He would much rather allow the students to write an essay; so he could hear their interpretation of what they read in a form that allowed them to express an opinion and defend it. Edward was not a teacher that subscribed to the “there is only one right interpretation” school of thought. How a person viewed a piece of literature was personal, it depended a lot on their past and viewpoints. No matter how strong his belief was in that, he was forced into the multiple-choice format due to the heavy reliance on standardized tests in the larger school districts. Every test given in every class had to mimic the standardized tests that were given several times each year to allow for plenty of opportunities to practice.
Hearing Mrs. Smith voice her concerns about the value of multiple-choice tests was music to Edward’s ears. She preferred the old methods of reading allowed in class and discussing as you go, followed up with essay at the end, allowing the student to voice their opinion. If her personality was friendlier, he would have run across to the other side of the table and given her a hug and a big kiss, but Edward restrained himself.
Edward opened up his lesson planner and began striking things out and writing in his adjustments. They will review his plans again today at 1:00 pm. No computer-based plans here, this was the old-fashioned lesson binder he remembered seeing teachers use when he was in school. He found the whole throwback nature of the school refreshing and energizing.
He was elbow deep in corrections for week three when there was a light knock on the door frame. Edward looked up, and after his eyes adjusted, he saw Mark leaning into his classroom door. “Hey, a group of us are heading to lunch at eleven You should join us.”
Edward quickly glanced at his cell phone and realized the time. It was 10:45. “Crap. I appreciate the offer, Mark, but I need to pass. I have to finish up these changes.”
Mark responded with an over exaggerated sad face.
Edward explained, “I’m way behind. I still thought it was nine something.”
Mark looked up at the old-fashioned clock hanging up above the chalkboard in the classroom, a feature Edward had yet to notice, and accepted his explanation with a quick reply of “Next time,” before disappearing down the hallway.
Edward called after him before he was out of earshot, “Mark, wait.”
Just seconds later, his head reappeared in the door. “Changed your mind?”
“Nah, I want to apologize about overstaying our welcome last night. Just like now, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
Mark looked bewildered by Edward’s statement, so Edward tried to explain “The comments about how late it was last night.”
“Oh.” Mark’s expression changed from bewildered to one of apprehension. He shifted back and forth in the doorframe, looking for something to focus on that was not Edward. “You guys were fine. Sharon had an early morning and I was just worried about you guys driving back on the dark roads. Deer like to run out in front of cars in the dark and such.”
“Ah, good thinking.” Edward gave Mark a reluctant thumbs up, and off to lunch Mark went.
Mark just lied, and Edward knew it. During the years he spent in the hospital, he honed his human lie detector skills. After only a year, Edward could tell when a nurse, orderly, or doctor lied or withheld something. Whether it was the wandering eyes, awkward pauses, or fidgeting, the telltale signs are the same for everyone. This was a great skillset to have when teaching teenagers, and even better for being the parent of one.
He buried his nose back in his lesson plans and updated them based on the guidance he received yesterday. The next few hours sped by with a flurry of strikeouts and notes. Edward leaned back in his swivel chair, which let out a slight squeak. He folded his hands behind his head and smiled. The thirty minutes left until his meeting was just enough time to walk down and scrounge up some nourishment in the teacher’s lounge’s vending machines. He never liked to go into battle on an empty stomach, not that Edward expected a battle during his meeting. It was quite the opposite. He looked forward to it and to the first day with students tomorrow. His enthusiasm turned into a semi-strut as he walked out of his classroom in the direction of the vending machines.
“Edward?” echoed a voice from behind, stopping him mid-strut.
Edward turned. Upon seeing who it was he thought to himself, Only in small-town America. This would have never been allowed in Portland. He walked back toward the visitor and extended his hand. “Father. What brings you to the school today?”
Father Murray, dressed in full black with a white collar and a crucifix dangling around his neck, took Edward’s hand firmly. “Walking around before the madness starts.” Father Murray’s face lit up. “Nah. Actually, I just blessed the football tea
m downstairs. I do it each year. You know… for the safety of the players. Plus, any divine guidance will help. Competition is stronger these days. Coach Holmes told me you had come home. Thought I would stop by to say hello and invite you and your family back to the church.” He looked warmly at Edward. “We would love to have you. Your mother and father were very active members of our congregation.” His voice dropped slightly to a more somber tone. “God rest their souls. We miss them terribly.”
Of everyone Edward had run into since returning, this was the one person he truly recognized and remembered. Of course, he was in his late thirties back then, but the eyes are the same kind eyes which provided him comfort when his parents were laid to rest. The voice sounded the same, maybe a few more years on it. Now in his seventies, he still tended to his flock in the very same community.
Edward and Karen struggled trying to find a church that felt inviting in Portland. Both of them were from small towns and in the big city, they found the churches had an antiseptic feeling. There was no sense of community. You came, prayed, listened to a sermon, and then everyone went home. They eventually found one, but did not find it to their liking. When Karen became sick their attendance waned. Between hospital stays and all the times Edward could not leave her alone, going to church took a backseat. Not to mention the period in which Edward frequently lashed out toward God. He could not understand why HE let this happen to Karen. He even cursed Him a few times.
Without hesitation, Edward agreed. “Absolutely Father, we’ll be there.”
Father Murray’s face lit up. “I look forward to meeting your wife and children as well, and bringing them into our extended family. Your family has been missing from our congregation for far too long.”
“Oh, Father, it will just be me and my kids. My wife, Karen, passed away earlier this year.”
Father Murray placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder and said, “Oh, Edward, I am so sorry to hear that. We know the Lord will call our name one day, we just never know when. It is always tragic when it is so young, but I am sure he has a greater purpose for her, even if we do not understand it. We are not really meant to.”