The Ghosts of Miller's Crossing

by David Clark

  “To some of these people you were a superhero the minute you stepped back into town. You took a little hit last night. You will recover.”

  “All this still seems so strange to me.”

  “I bet. You haven’t lived through it for over thirty years like the rest of us.” Mark shoveled potato salad in his mouth. “… W… When I saw my first ghost, I was afraid to tell my parents, but it was at home and they saw it too, so they knew. The explanation they gave seemed like something out of a corny horror film. I didn’t believe them at first. A few of my friends thought the town elders were putting something in the water to make us hallucinate. It took years of sighting and experiences before I started to get it.”

  Edward thought how lucky Mark was to have parents that understood. “Took me a few years in a mental institution to understand what I was seeing.”

  Mark stopped chewing on the piece of ham and gawked at Edward. “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely. My foster parents thought I was nuts.”

  “I could see that. How was the looney bin?”

  “Crazy.”

  “I bet. Seriously, how was it?”

  “I spent a while trying to convince everyone I was not crazy. Then I spent time convincing myself I wasn’t crazy. Eventually I learned how to play the game to make them think I was all better, so I could get out. At that point I didn’t care who was crazy or not.”

  “Maybe we are crazy. Maybe this whole town is crazy, or something is in the water making us all see things. Could be a big government conspiracy.”

  “Explains why the water is a little green.”

  “Yes, it would.” Mark chuckled. “Know you aren’t crazy, and others can see them too. Don’t let the weight of your family’s role in this wear on you. It took me long enough to accept what my eyes saw. I never had to deal with what you are. By the way, how should I address you? My Savior? Should I bow?” Mark gave a mini bow with both hands over his head.

  “You can call me a failure,” Edward said, looking down at his plate.

  Mark patted him on the shoulder to reassure him. “Just be Edward, and take things one day at a time. You have a great support system here. Father Murray, Lewis, and others like me and Sharon.”

  “I feel like I failed big time last night.” The image of the hysterical family circled around the child screaming in agony hadn’t left Edward’s mind. He wondered if he should have talked to them, instead of just sitting there on the ground. He can’t help feeling responsible for what happened to their son and home, but he didn’t understand what he could have done differently.

  “Think of it as more of a stumble. I hear the boy is fine now and enjoying all the attention in the hospital. Larry and his family will stay with Father Murray until they repair the house. Should only take a few weeks. There is a crew out there now.”

  Edward was unsure if Mark was just trying to make him feel better or telling him the truth. The bell for the end of the lunch period sounded and Edward helped Mark snap the covers back on the containers scattered across the table. They filed out with the mass of other teachers out of the lounge and down the hallway to their classrooms.

  25

  Edward tried to keep his yawn quiet, but failed. The sound echoed through the cavernous church. Luckily it was empty at the time.

  “Keeping you up?” asked Father Murray. He had entered through a door on the left of the transept. “It’s alright. I still feel last night a bit too.” He motioned for Edward to join him up at the front of the church.

  He’d taken a pew in the back of the church. His mood and performance made him feel unworthy of sitting any closer to the alter. He only moved because his friend insisted.

  “Kevin just came back from the hospital. He is fine. They all are.”

  “They are? But his burns?”

  “They are over in the house watching TV, waiting on pizza to arrive. His burns were not real.” Father Murray walked around the front of the church, picking up some bulletins discarded on the floor by the prayer service that just left. “They were more for our benefit, or should I say yours. The creature was trying to scare you, not harm the boy.”

  If that’s the case, it succeeded, thought Edward. Just the thought of the images he saw struck fear in him.

  “Did you hear voices?” asked Father Murray.

  “Yes, I heard voices. The creature spoke to me.”

  “He was playing a psychological game with you.”

  Edward thought back to the images and places the creature took him. They seemed very real, not just a psychological trick. He explained, “It was more than voices. He took me to another place. I was not in the bedroom at times. I was in a field with my kids with a warm freeze breeze blowing around us.”

  “Trust me. You were there standing next to me the whole time. Theses beings are crafty.” In a tone that echoed his sermons, Father Murray explained, “Like the Devil himself, these creatures will whisper rose colored promises and produce images of deception to bend our will in their direction. We, everyone, not just you and I, must be strong in our conviction and trust in the Lord. If we give in just once, that is the door that pure evil will walk through. Look at the root of all evil in this world and you will find someone that has accepted one of those promises.”

  The words Father Murray said struck a chord inside Edward. It was a sermon he heard him give when he was a child. It was also a sermon he heard repeated in every church he and Karen attended in Portland. His mind struggled with the literal thought of a creature like they encountered being behind all the evil in the world. It could be an example of the eternal battle of good versus evil. It could also just be a philosophical statement, that true evil comes from acceptance of a promise that is unearned or undeserved. Like a bank robber looking for the promise of riches without working for them.

  “Are you coming?” Edward looked around for the Father and saw him standing in the back of the Church, heading out the door.

  “Yes, ummm. Where are we going? Edward asked, following him down the aisle.

  “More training. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

  “I did.”

  Father Murray didn’t buy that response. He knew he didn’t.

  26

  After an uncomfortable day of isolation at school, Edward found himself yet again in the passenger seat of Father Murray’s Caddy, driving to an unknown location. This trip was more relaxed than others. Father Murray even turned on the radio which was pre-tuned to an oldies station. He hummed along to the Animals singing about “The House of the Rising Sun”.

  They drove through the center of town, which was still rather active despite darkness setting in.

  “If you want a great apple pie you have to go to Ruthie’s right there,” Father Murray pointed out. “Have you checked Dan’s newsstand? He has several shelves in the back where he keeps paperbacks of the new best sellers. That is the closest you will find to a bookstore here. The next is one of those huge things a couple of towns over. If there is a book you really want, Dan can order it for you.”

  Edward confessed, “I haven’t had much of a chance to explore downtown yet. I’ve shopped a few times in the corner store for groceries and a few dinners at Len’s. I remembered his fried chicken from when I was a kid.”

  “Doc said I have to watch that stuff for my cholesterol and my gall bladder.” A mischievous look spread across his face. “Don’t tell him I visit or get take-out from Len’s a couple times a week.”

  Edward smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  The lights of town disappeared behind them as they continued to drive for a few more minutes, then pull into a driveway of an old farmhouse. There was a single light on over the front door. A man emerged when the Caddy creaked to a stop just even with the front porch.

  “Evening, Paul.”

  “Evening, Father.”

  “Is it still here?”

  “Yep, o’er yonder. Just past the pump house.”

  “
All right, go on inside. We will take care of it. Tell Molly I said hello.”

  “Will do. Night,” the man said, and disappeared back in the house without acknowledging Edward.

  Father Murray started down the driveway toward the barn at the back of the property with Edward in tow. “Paul is a good man. His wife is from a neighboring town. She doesn’t see the spirits, but the thought of them being anywhere near her scares her to death. I still am not sure why they haven’t moved yet.”

  Edward asked, “If she can’t see them, how does she know they are there?”

  “Paul tells her when they are around.”

  The two rounded the barn and Edward saw their destination: a small shed about fifty feet away. “Remember how people treated you when you told them what you saw? Imagine the reverse. You see nothing but are living in a town where everyone else does. It took a while before she accepted this was not a huge joke we were all playing on her. When she did, her fear set in. I think the fear comes from not being able to see and understand like the rest of us can.”

  A cold shiver traveled down Edward’s neck and through his back. “Father…”

  “I feel it too. That’s why we’re here, and I want you to take the lead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Show me what you got.”

  Father Murray stopped short and to the side of the shed. Edward felt timid as he walked around the shed and came face to face with a single spirit, a man, standing there. He fumbled through his pocket for the book and cross. He found them, but while pulling the cross out he dropped it in the high grass at his feet. The spirit continued to look at the back wall of the pump shed.

  Edward reached down and searched for a few moments in the damp grass until he found the cross. He held it out with his right hand toward the creature and opened the book with his left. Both objects shook from his nerves.

  “Relax and breathe,” Father Murray coached from the side.

  Edward tried to take a deep breath, but his hands continued to shake. His voice quivered as much as the cross. He recited the prayer on the page. “Holy Michael, the Archangel, defend us in…”

  Father Murray cut him off. “You can’t use the same prayer every time. Feel your way through this and pick the right one.”

  Edward stood there, dumbfounded and unsure.

  “What do you feel?”

  “I feel the same cold shiver I always do.”

  “Go deeper.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Father Murray asked, “Do you feel fear, Edward?”

  “I am afraid to fail.”

  “Not that. Do you fear the spirit? Do you feel any malevolent intent from this spirit.?”

  Edward took a moment. “No, not like last night.”

  “Reach out with your feelings and tell me.”

  Edward closed his eyes and searched through his thoughts and sensations. He sensed the spirit. Its presence combined with an overwhelming feeling of being lost. At first Edward thought that feeling was associated with his own lack of confidence, but he soon realized it was different. “I feel unsure of what I’m doing, but I also feel something else. Someone is lost.”

  “That feels foreign to you, like what you feel when you become attached to a character in a movie or book, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “That is the spirit in front of you. He is lost, not a threat. St. Michael’s prayer is used when we go to battle. There is no reason to take hostilities against a peaceful spirit that needs help. Now look through the book. Find the right prayer.”

  Edward flipped through the pages and searched. All the while, he hoped Father Murray would come point out the right page to him. With his hands no longer shaking, Edward found a prayer on the sixth page that he believed to be the correct one. “I think I found one.” He turned to show him. “Is this the right one?”

  Father Murray held up a hand to stop him. “That is for you to decide. Go ahead and read it.”

  “O God, the bestower of forgiveness and the lover of human salvation, we beseech Thee, of Thy tender love, to grant that the brethren of our congregation, with their relatives and benefactors, who have passed out of this life, may, by the intercession of Blessed Mary, ever Virgin, and all thy saints, come to the fellowship of eternal bliss. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  The spirit disappeared in front of their eyes.

  Father Murray gave a light applause. “Good. This spirit was just lost. You gave him the rites needed to pass on. Come now. Let’s get out of here, it’s getting cold.”

  Curious about the scenario Father Murray just described, Edward asked, “Is that a guess?”

  “Yes and no.” Father Murray pulled his coat collar up to shield from the cold. “Call it experience.” Father Murray turned. “Over the years I have felt many spirits and tried many prayers. Over time you hone your sense to what you feel. With the non-violent spirits you can try multiple prayers until you find the right one. With violent ones, mistakes empower them, so you must be careful. I cannot emphasize that enough.” His words and expression landed on Edward with a fright. “So, what caused you to pick that prayer?”

  Edward told him, “I read through the words and recognized a few terms and phrases in what you have me studying. They are ones used for redemption and reunification. It seemed like one that could reunite one with their loved ones.”

  “Perfect. Good use of information and judgement. Come now. Let’s get out of here before we catch death and become spirits ourselves.”

  The normally quiet drive back was filled with story after story by Father Murray. Some involved Edward’s grandfather or father. Others didn’t. Each talked about what Father Murray sensed going into each scenario. All knowledge he was trying to impart on his new student.

  He asked if it was the same feeling for everyone.

  “I asked your grandfather that when I first arrived, and he explained that it is. Based on my experience, it is the same mostly. I felt everything like he described it, more or less. There are slight differences, but the sensations were close enough that I knew. It just takes time to learn and recognize it.” Father Murray explained only stopping to laugh.

  “What?”

  Father Murray pointed ahead of them. “Look up yonder.”

  Edward looked up the crushed stone driveway of the church. A group of spirits circled both the church and his own car. “The cross draws lost souls. They can sense where it is, and where it has been.”

  “That would be why they circle the farmhouse now.”

  “They mean no harm. Kind of like a moth to a flame.”

  “Why don’t they follow me when I carry it?”

  “I don’t know. Suppose they take a while to sense it. Maybe if you stand in once place long enough with it, they will.”

  The thought of being the pied piper for spirits tickled Edward’s sense of humor. “As if any of this could get any odder”.

  27

  Edward walked through the door and into a parallel universe. Jacob sat at the dining room table doing his homework. Sarah stood over his shoulder, helping. She wore an apron he hadn’t seen in years. The sound of the front door closing caused both kids to turn around and look at him.

  Sarah put her hands on her hips and attempted to tap her foot while asking, “Where have you been, mister?”

  “I had a school meeting. Remember? We talked about it this morning and you agreed to start dinner.” Edward did not make a habit of lying to his children, but this one time he felt he needed to.

  “Yes, and dinner is in there covered in foil. Jacob is almost done with his homework.” Sarah took off the apron. She handed it to her father.

  “Nice apron.” He noticed her very non-school-dress-code-compliant-outfit and asked, “Going somewhere?”

  “I found it hung on a nail on the backside of the pantry door. I didn’t want to mess up my outfit. And yes, Charlotte will be by to pick me up soon. She wanted me to come over to watch a mov
ie together and... before your ask, I won’t be out late. I know it’s a school night.”

  Sarah gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a “Thanks Dad” on her way up stairs.

  Edward took over her position behind Jacob, looking at his homework. She was right. He was almost done. With a quick glance it appeared Jacob had answered them correctly. No modern math here, everything just as he learned it years ago.

  “Is it good?” Jacob asked while looking up at him.

  Edward picked up the page. “Yep, everything looks right. Exceptionally good.”

  “Are you sure? Mom was always better at math.”

  “I am sure.” Edward then pulled out the chair next to him and had a seat. “You miss her, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes more than others.”

  “Like now?”

  “She always helped me with my homework.

  “I know. I miss her too. Just know she is looking down on us.”

  “Like an angel?” asked the precocious seven-year-old.

  “Exactly. She watches over us.”

  “Even here? Does she know we moved?”

  “Especially here. She came with us. We take her everywhere we go in our heart.”

  “Cool.”

  He handed the page back to Jacob, who put it in his math folder and slid it into his backpack. “Thanks,” Jacob said and then headed upstairs. Edward knew he was off to declare war on a mythical world in the digital universe. The rule in the house was homework first and then video games.

  That was more Karen’s rule, and one he helped Jacob break a few times. His video game habit was actually Edward’s fault. During college, Edward got his first exposure to video games, and he was hooked. When he and Karen started living together, she gave him a little grief about his childish hobby. When she walked in and found Jacob sitting in Edward’s lap being taught how to play, she rolled her eyes and walked out. Edward still enjoyed them with his son from time to time. Some fathers and son pay catch, some build things, not Edward and Jacob. They bond while hunting people down in a digital playground. The aromatic smell coming from the kitchen reminded Edward he was hungry.