Maple Dale (Maple Dale Series)

by MaryAnn Myers

  "And he really caught me off guard too," Richard said. "He'd seemed pretty friendly until I got to the car."

  "Well, then that's it," Walter said, trying desperately not to believe any of this. "It was the car. It scared him."

  Richard glanced to where the cat had been sitting. It was gone now. He shook his head. "No, I hadn't even started it. It was the wind I think."

  The three of them turned, and fell quiet as Christine's car started up the hill, alone. Richard suggested she not bring Shad in lieu of what had happened yesterday. They'd also agreed they weren't going to discuss this with anyone. However, it was obvious to Christine from the looks on their faces as she parked and got out, that it was precisely what they were talking about.

  "I told them," Richard said, confirming her suspicions.

  Christine nodded, and as she looked from one to the other, tried to determine what each was thinking. "I know it sounds crazy, but the handkerchief, and the blood..."

  Bill checked his watch. His crew and equipment were due to arrive any minute. He stared and looked aggravated. And Walter looked faint. Christine edged toward Richard. "Did you tell them about the other day too? You know, about the dust?"

  Richard nodded, and for a moment, they all just looked at one another. Bill broke the silence. "I think what we have to decide on here, is exactly what we're dealing with."

  Walter gulped. "What do you mean?"

  "What do I mean...?" Bill really looked aggravated now. "What I mean is, is it vandals and a ghost? Or just a ghost?"

  Walter started sputtering. "Oh now wait a minute! Let's not get carried away. Some odd things are happening, but..."

  He was alone in his thinking, and Richard told him that, point blank. "Listen. I know it's a little hard to believe, but there's no two ways about it. We are dealing with a ghost."

  Walter disagreed lamely. "It doesn't have to be. It could be something else."

  "Hey, call it whatever makes you happy," Bill said. "But it's a ghost. I've felt one around here from the very first day."

  "Oh Lord," Walter replied. "Come on, get real. I don't even think there are such things."

  Bill let out a laugh. "No, but I suppose you don't have a problem thinking there's a heaven and a hell somewhere."

  Walter glanced at Richard and Christine. "That's different," he said, shrugging.

  "No, it's not," Bill said. "How you gonna get there?"

  Silence.

  "Right." That pretty much settled it as far as Bill was concerned. He crossed his arms. "Deny spirits and you deny the rest, unless you happen to know someone who may have walked their way up or down."

  "But..."

  Bill shook his head and sighed. "Let me tell you," he said, and hesitated, not at all comfortable discussing this kind of thing. "When I was a kid, my grandfather came to see me. I don't know what he wanted, maybe just to say good-bye. But it was after he died."

  Walter shifted his weight and glanced at Richard and Christine again before responding. "You were a kid, like you said. A child's imagination. Maybe it was just a dream."

  "A dream, my ass," Bill said. "It was as real as you standing there denying what's staring you in the face."

  "Um..." Christine cleared her throat, hoping to fend off an argument, if that's where this was headed. "You mean his ghost? Your grandfather's?"

  Bill nodded. "He woke me up out of a sound sleep, standing by my bed, just looking at me." He shook his head, chuckling somewhat. "And I don't mind telling, it scared the hell out of me. I screamed I guess and my momma come running. She said I screamed like someone was trying to kill me."

  "And did she see him?" Walter asked.

  Bill ignored the implication. "No, he was gone by then. But she smelled his pipe tobacco. She thought I'd been smoking at first, but I told her what I'd seen and that I was sure it was Grandpa, and she never doubted it for a second. She told me I had nothing to be afraid of, that he never hurt me when he was alive, so I had nothing to fear from him now, so..."

  When Walter started to object, saying, "But..." Bill lost his temper. "Damn it, Walter! You amaze me sometimes! What the hell's the matter with you? It happened! I've got no reason to be making this up! I saw him! He was there! And someone's here now, so start believing it!"

  Walter cowered, not so much in response to Bill's anger, but from the depths of his convictions, and Christine had another question. "Okay, so what are we going to do?"

  Bill looked at her and smiled, impressed by how calm she appeared. "You mean about the ghost? I don't know. I've never had to deal with one before. At least not one that stuck around."

  Richard had to laugh at that, especially with the way Walter rolled his eyes. But the lightness at the moment was brief, because now Walter posed a question. "What do you think this ghost wants?"

  "I don't know. I think the first thing we have to do is determine who this ghost is. My guess is that it's Leah Oliver."

  Walter backed up. "Leah Oliver?"

  Richard nodded, and Bill agreed. "I saw her up on the north end just before dusk one day. Off in the distance."

  "So..." Walter said.

  "It was before I heard she'd died."

  "Okay, so what's your point?" Walter said. "She was here a lot then. She lived her, remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember," Bill said. "And she also died here. That's what I mean. She was supposed to have been dead a week by then."

  "What?"

  Bill shrugged. "I never said anything because I wasn't sure it was her. In those riding outfits, everyone looks the same to me. Only now I am sure, because she had that damned cat with her."

  Richard felt his skin crawl. When he had the cat yesterday, was Leah present then too? Lord. "We're going to have to try and keep this to ourselves. This gets out and..."

  Walter nodded to himself. "We'd never sell a lot."

  Richard looked at him. "Actually I was thinking about my daughter, and what affect this news would have on her."

  Walter lowered his eyes sheepishly to the ground. He hadn't given anything or anyone else a thought. "I'm sorry. I uh..."

  Richard waved it off, and just then, the first of a convoy of trucks, trailers, and tractors, started up the hill. They'd have to talk about this later. Christine suggested they meet at her and Richard's. Richard said he'd contact Klaus, since he thought he should be made aware of this also. And it was set for that evening.

  * * *

  Bethann calculated the last algebra problem on her test and laid her pencil down with a sigh. Her teacher looked up. He smiled, then buried his face back into the book he was reading, and she stared at him for a moment. Up until now, she probably couldn't have recalled what he looked like, and this, after practically a full quarter of classes. He was as insignificant as the color of the walls. They were blue. She had to look. No wonder. Her teacher was wearing blue as well.

  She looked out the window and before long, sighed again. Her teacher didn't bother to look up this time, as if he knew it was her. And she wondered if she was as insignificant to him as he was to her, and would anyone care if he died?

  Such was her mood that evening at home. "Why is it, MM-Mom, that n-no one seemed to c-c-care about Leah until after s-s-she died? Why didn't th-they care when she was alive?"

  "You cared, honey. Don't worry about other people."

  This seemed contradictory, but well intended, so Bethann let it go at that. As she went upstairs to do her homework, Richard came in the back door to the aroma of brownies.

  "Delicious," he said, chewing one and reaching for another before he'd even taken his coat off. "Are we having a party?"

  Christine smiled. Whenever she was nervous, she cooked. Whenever Richard was nervous, he joked around. "No, but I have been cooking all afternoon, so I hope you're hungry."

  "I'm so hungry, I'm weak," Richard said. "Did you talk to Bethann about tonight?"

  Christine walked over and started stirring something on the stove. She hadn't. "I tried, but..."

&nb
sp; Richard sympathized with her. "Come on, we'll do it now." Shad meandered in then, and after Richard made a fuss over him, they called Bethann down and went into the den. They needn't have worried about Bethann though. She'd been the one all along trying to tell them that it was Leah.

  "I stopped at the library," Christine said pensively, while reaching for several books stacked on the table. "And according to what I've read, a ghost, a spirit...can get confused. Misguided. Unsure of where to go. Leah's case is similar to one documented here, where a person died under tremendous emotional pressure, and just wouldn't leave."

  "S-So what d-d-do we do?" Bethann said.

  Christine turned to Richard, but he didn't have any answers either. "Maybe we'll come up with something tonight. Right now, let's eat."

  Walter and Bill arrived shortly after dinner, and they all had to wait for Klaus. He would have been on time, but he'd been driving around the block wrestling with an anxiety attack. And even now, he could hardly sit still.

  "Are you people crazy? A ghost?"

  Walter encouraged him to calm down, he looked like he could burst a vein, and Richard recounted the circumstances leading up to their conclusion, leaving nothing out.

  Klaus's face by now was beet-red. "Then let's get the ball rolling and make a lot of noise! Start on several homes, not just mine!"

  Walter saw some merit in this. After all, it was Klaus's property, most of it at least. But Richard disagreed. He thumbed through one of the library books. "That might only make matters worse."

  "Worse?" Klaus shook his head in a frenzy. "Then what do you suggest? Maybe take the deed down to the cemetery and hand it over to her!"

  Richard drew a deep breath. "No, I'm just suggesting that we give this a little more thought."

  Klaus sprang to his feet. "More thought? No! This is ridiculous! Do you really think I'm going to buy this ghost crap?"

  Bill had been quiet up until then, and even now, didn't raise his voice much. "If you think this is a bunch of crap, that's okay. You're entitled to your opinion. But you're wasting your breath trying to convince us. You need to go out to Maple Dale and tell Leah Oliver how you feel. You need to convince her."

  * * *

  Leah walked aimlessly through the woods, holding Phoenix, and came upon a squirrel. It darted across her path, up a tree, and then over to the next one, chattering and twitching its tail. Amused by its actions, she tried to smile, but her face remained stiff. This inability to smile had happened to her before.

  Frightened, she wrapped Phoenix tighter in her arms. He was cold, and his fur was rough. It didn't feel like him. This frightened her too. It had to be him. She dangled him before her eyes, a daily and compulsive habit now.

  "Oh, it is you. Thank God."

  Phoenix wrenched free, and she lowered herself to the grass, being careful to hold onto the weeds so as not to sink into the ground. She inspected her boots. They had faded so, and were all but gone. She could hardly distinguish them anymore. Staring and staring and seeing only glimpses of one then the other, she suddenly smelled smoke and turned, almost burying herself, and gasped. The end of the arena was engulfed in flames.

  "No...!" She raised her arms over her head frantically, flying, flying, and swooped down on it, drawing the blaze into her lungs, as distant sirens approached. Damning whoever started the fire, damning them again and again, over and over, with each singed breath, she defied it to destroy her precious Maple Dale. To destroy even one small part.

  "Don't you dare!"

  "Don't you dare!"

  Though the sky was filled with smoke billowing high above the trees when the firemen arrived, as they flanked the area with their hoses charged and ready, a very puzzled, though very relieved fire chief called his dispatcher and declined a backup.

  Klaus received a phone call shortly after that. "I hope you don't mind," he told Christine, when she handed him the phone. "I left this number with my service."

  The discussion had come full circle, somewhat more civil now, and she was serving refreshments. "No, not at all."

  "Yes," Klaus barked into the phone. "What is it?"

  Christine couldn't help notice, no matter what the man did or said, how it always appeared and sounded rude. Even when he'd said, 'I hope you don't mind,' there was an distinct edge in his voice, like now.

  "How nice," he said. "How?" And then, "How bad?" And, "When?"

  By now, everyone in the room had turned and was listening. Klaus was pale as he hung up.

  "Problem?" Richard asked.

  "Yes, there's uh, been a fire."

  "Where?"

  "At Maple Dale. The arena."

  Bill's eyes widened. "How bad?"

  Klaus turned. "It's uh, it's out now."

  "They say anything about the equipment?"

  Klaus shook his head, staring off, and looked totally preoccupied. He was. He'd just realized his ears needed cleaned. He could feel them. They were dirty. They itched. "No, they didn't."

  "Well shit!" Bill said, already up and headed for the door. Everyone quickly followed.

  * * *

  The far wall of the arena, from just below the main ceiling joist, was gone. Jagged, charred edges, were all that remained. Richard and Bill walked around assessing the damages, while Walter talked to the fire chief. Christine and Bethann stayed by the cars, shivering as they clung to one another.

  "This could've been a disaster," Bill said, motioning to the tractors, which were enveloped in smoke but unharmed. "If just one of them had ignited..."

  Richard nodded. "They'd have heard it in Timbuktu." The two of them stood there for a moment looking out the open end into the night. Tiny, glittering specks of light beamed down at them, as did the harvest moon.

  Walter walked up behind them. "Kinda looks like a drive-in movie, doesn't it?"

  It did. One so quiet and still, it was eerie. "Do you think she did this?" Richard asked.

  The she he was referring to went without saying. "I don't know," Bill said, shaking his head.

  "No." Walter was positive. "In fact, if Klaus wasn't with us tonight, I'd have sworn it was him. He'd be tickled to death to see it leveled."

  Richard nodded, and glanced around. "Where is he anyway?"

  He was just now starting up the hill, after having stopped at the corner store to buy a box of Q-tips. He pulled past the cars and over next to the barn to park, and just to be safe, cleaned his ears again. And then again, and again.

  "I expected worse," he said, when he finally joined them.

  "We're lucky it wasn't." Walter remarked, with a twinge of irony in his voice only Bill detected.

  "What do you mean?"

  Walter looked at him. "The fire chief said it snuffed itself out somehow. It was out before they got here."

  This had them all just standing there, staring at the ruins for a moment, pondering how and why, when out of the corner on his eye, Bill caught a glimpse of Klaus pushing down on a bulge in the front of his pants.

  Why, the sick son of a bitch, he thought. He couldn't believe it and looked away, shaking his head. Growing up where he had, he thought he'd seen just about everything. Obviously not.

  "They say how it started?" Klaus asked.

  Walter shook his head and shrugged. "Probably kids."

  Probably. Which is why Richard decided to stick around for the night. Christine pleaded with him not to, Bethann was beside herself in tears, and during all this, Leah watched. From a distance. She wondered if one of them had set the fire. Maybe Klaus. He could've done it. Or maybe the black man.

  Bill offered to stay with Richard, which helped him convince Christine to go on home. He sent her and Bethann on their way. Klaus, thinking they all should go home, left in a huff, screeching his tires on the main road as he made the first turn and then again at the stop sign. When Walter left then, Bill walked over and got a crowbar and two flashlights out of his

  truck.

  Richard smiled. Who in their right mind would mess with this man,
crowbar or not? "Do you think the power'll be out?"

  Bill shook his head. "It shouldn't be, there's no wiring up at that end."

  The power was fine. They had lights, radio, and soon, hot coffee. All the comforts of home. Richard settled down at Christine's desk, and Bill at Walter's. After a while, Bill turned the lights off, the radio lower, and they both dozed.

  Leah had been watching them for some time from the corner, and now edged closer. She was sure they were going to try to burn the arena down again, and was worried her lungs wouldn't be able to take on another fire. Her only hope was to prevent the onset.

  She crept toward Bill. She couldn't allow him to wake rested, he would be too much for her then. She had to stop him now, in his sleep.

  She crouched down next to him and listened to his breathing, remembering stories about how a cat could suck the life out of an infant by sitting on its chest. Inhaling and inhaling and inhaling. Only with each breath, it was she who felt suffocated. When she gasped, Bill woke with a start, and hit the lights.

  It was the cat. It was staring down at him from the rafters, as innocently as a stuffed animal. It was going to be the death of him. "Get outta here. Go on."

  Richard woke to the standoff, Bill staring up at the cat, the cat staring down at Bill, and shivered. "Ignore him. I don't think he wants anything to do with us either."

  "Oh yeah, sure." Bill yawned and smiled, stretching his legs out as he turned off the lights again. "I just had the weirdest dream. It must be this place."

  Richard sympathized. "Did it have a cat in it?"

  Bill chuckled. "No. I was drowning, and someone was holding my head underwater."

  Richard stared in the near dark, listening.

  "The next thing I knew I was up on the side of the river and my momma was drying me off." Bill paused. "I haven't dreamt about her in years."

  "You're right," Richard said. "It's this place. Nothing surprises me anymore, dreams included."

  Bill chuckled again, and thinking more about it, laughed. When he was a kid, his momma used to tell him that he was going to meet the devil laughing, that it was his way. Maybe so.